


In Vitro Veritas

by olimakiella



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Companionable Snark, M/M, Manipulation, Mpreg, Potions, Protectiveness, Snark, UST, baby powers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-01
Updated: 2012-09-01
Packaged: 2017-11-13 08:33:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 63,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/501521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olimakiella/pseuds/olimakiella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is rapidly becoming obsessed with Draco Malfoy and, after a less than promising detention, Draco really wishes he wasn’t.  With the war up and coming (plus one other unexpected thing), there just isn’t enough time to nurture their hate/hate relationship.  This creates complications, confusion, and, best of all, the opportunity for something new to blossom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Vitro Veritas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [winona_starlet](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=winona_starlet).



> Written for the HarryDraco mpreg fest of 2012. Reveals went up a while back and I'm posting it here. 
> 
> Prompt: Harry and Draco's 6th year, Harry and Draco aren't together, canon up until a certain point in sixth year (up to author) they have sex (somehow, could be influenced by something), Draco gets pregnant. The upcoming war complicates everything. They fall in love. Harry and Draco don't trust one another at the start. Harry has mixed feelings about the baby but promises to protect Draco (up to the author how Harry finds out). Lucius can be involved. Special Request(s): preg!Draco only. Fragile(but hides it)!Draco StrongIndipendent!Harry. 
> 
> **Disclaimer:** Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended. I used a line from Disney’s Beauty and the Beast and one from a TV show called Kana Himi. I don’t own either of those. I also don’t own OXO cubes. Credit goes to the HP Lexicon for dates, textbook references, quotations and spells I couldn’t easily remember.  
>  **Warning(s):** Tons of swearing (the boys have very dirty mouths), UST, Character Death (It’s Sixth Year, so we know who it is already, don’t we?) 
> 
> Though I know that Dumbledore dies May/June of 1997, for the sake of the story, here, he dies in March. Also, Ron's birthday is skimmed over, but it did happen in March too. Thanks to the prompt, I had a little freedom with where I wanted to start my AU, so I used elements of HBP throughout it instead. Special thanks to N, who is a witch with spelling, grammar, plot holes (that I dig myself into constantly) and sense in general. Your help is invaluable and the title is _awesome_!

That dripping sound was going to drive him insane. He’d never noticed it before. Then again, unlike Potter, he wasn’t a permanent resident. “I’ve already called your Head of House,” Madam Pomfrey said quietly behind him. He shut his eyes in the already dim light of the Hospital Wing. His headache was getting worse. Blaise and Pansy winced and looked at each other before their gaze fell collectively on Draco, as he lay in the Hospital Wing cot.

“Great,” Draco said monotonously as he turned over, the pain in his head and stomach making his breath catch as he moved.

Pansy looked at Blaise in worry. “What do you think it is?” Blaise simply shrugged, his shoulders rising and falling effortlessly. He’d known immediately that something was wrong when he’d walked in on the blond doubled over his bed in the dorm. Everyone knew that when Draco was hurt, he played it up like a drama on the wireless, never shut up in fact – but when he was seriously ill, he went silent.

A silent Draco was never a good sign.

“Have you been taking anything?” the nurse continued as quiet as she could for his migraine. She looked up at the two other Slytherins watching over their friend. “Have you been given anything by your friends to... experiment with?”

Draco frowned and turned his head enough to give the nurse an incredulous squint. “You think I’m on _potions_?” he said and scoffed. He then winced at the pain it induced.

Madam Pomfrey shook her head. “The life of students doesn’t surprise me anymore, Mr Malfoy. Rest assured, I would ask any other student who came in here the same question.”

Draco, somehow, managed to look indignant. “I am not any other student. As much as my House is looked down upon, I am not so stupid as to get into experimental potions. I neither need the money, nor do I have nothing better to do.” He turned back over, stating with the gesture that he was done with _that_ particular conversation. He winced again and squirmed to get comfortable.

Just then, the doors to the Infirmary banged open, the echo resonating around the room. Draco took the pillow from under him and encased his entire head within it as much as he could. Professor Snape strode in. Frowning at the group around the bed, he looked down and his expression turned to one of concern. He’d been told one of his House was sick, _who_ had not been mentioned. “What seems to be the problem?” he asked turning now to the nurse.

Madam Pomfrey gave him a scolding look before purposely lowering her voice to answer him. “Mr Malfoy is suffering from a rather painful stomach ache and a persistent migraine. He’s missed his last two classes of the day because of it. Mr Zabini here is the one who found him and brought him here.” She paused and looked down to the boy who’d cocooned his entire head in a pillow. She wondered if he could breathe. “I’m actually afraid that if he hadn’t been brought here, he’d still be in his dorm room doubled over his bed in agony.”

Severus Snape bent down and tugged at a corner of the pillow. Slowly, it rose and a squinting grey eye met his. A sudden clear memory arose in his mind of Draco as a toddler, sick with a case of flu. Severus had been called in with the influenza potions he was working on at the time and had been met with a pile of quilts and blankets when he’d gone upstairs to give it to the poor boy. He’d cleared his throat only to get the corner of the pile lifting. Bending over, he’d only been able to get an eye and a deep sniff. His memory self smiled at the innocent gesture. The boy had a bad headache and, as such, had cocooned himself away in total darkness where nothing could make him come out, save for a cure. He’d been Draco’s favourite person ever since.

Here, now, he cocked an eyebrow. “Care to share?” The pillow returned to its place and a subtle rocking let him know that, no, Draco did _not_ care to share.

Snape sighed heavily and turned to the rest of Draco’s triumvirate. “Well?”

Pansy looked to Blaise before she began. “We don’t actually know what’s wrong, Sir. He was fine this morning.” Blaise coughed. Pansy turned to him again. He looked decidedly guilty.

“Mr Zabini?” His name alone was a statement, a question and a warning. He looked at all standing members in the room before his gaze settled on Draco. Blaise bit into his bottom lip. He’d said he wouldn’t tell.

 _Screw it._ “He had a detention last night.”

Snape cocked an eyebrow. “With who?”

Blaise cleared his throat. “Well, it was meant to be with Professor Slughorn.” Both of Snape’s eyebrows rose this time. “Professor McGonagall stood in for him because he went to a ministry party and you were at a meeting.” Snape purposefully kept a straight face at that. They didn’t need to know where he really was. “Draco and Potter had points taken away before they were sentenced to detention for their behaviour.”

Snape’s expressions had gone from cross, to furious, to curious during the rehashing of events. “What behaviour?” His arms crossed over his chest. Blaise faltered and paused at the expression on his Head of House’s face.

Here, Pansy took over. “Potter didn’t want to pair with Draco, but because the other Gryffindors had already paired off, he had no choice.” She glanced down to Draco, who hadn’t moved during the entire tale. “They bickered throughout the entire exercise about who would chop and who would stir, about Draco not bringing his book because he thinks he knows everything and...” She’d trailed off after rolling her eyes, but seemed hesitant to convey the rest. Snape’s narrowed eyes solved that, however. “When it came to sampling their potions,” she added even quieter than before.

Snape knew that the Slytherins already had an idea of what they would be studying because he’d drawn up a subject outline of all the topics and potions they would be covering during the term. Slughorn, so far, had no reason to stray from the lesson plans he’d outlined in advance, so the reason Draco didn’t bring his book was probably because he’d already memorised the lesson content and because the book was actually rather heavy. The only reason he’d argue with Potter over not having his book would be because Slughorn changed the topic, since McGonagall had even less of a reason to deviate from the outline. His eyes went down to the ill boy on the cot. He wished he hadn’t had a ‘meeting’ to go to yesterday, he could have stood in as a substitute, as he had no Defence classes on a Monday. Usually, he was exempted, but the Dark Lord had insisted.

“Do I need to ask which of them sampled the potion?”

A shaky arm rose. Draco’s school jumper was gone and instead his shirt and school trousers remained. The shirt was tieless and the top two buttons, as well as the cuffs, were undone. He’d rolled them up his forearms. Snape wasn’t sure if Draco was thinking clearly as yet, but he was glad Draco hadn’t been able to make the meeting over the summer holidays, being in France with his mother at a retreat at the time. Sometimes, Narcissa was tedious, but she’d truly outdone herself in August. He knew she wanted none of this for her only son, and her intervention had saved him from the mark for a little while longer. He was impressed she was able to whisk him away so quickly without Lucius knowing.

“That would be me,” the quiet, muffled, voice said sarcastically. Hmm, not _that_ out of his mind with pain, then.

He wanted to sigh, but held it in. “And what was the potion? I will need a sample of what you made.” He might not be the Potions teacher anymore, but he was still the Head of Slytherin House, the students were his responsibility, no matter how Albus tried to have him give it up.

“It’s labelled on your-Slughorn’s desk.” His voice cut off then and Draco moved quickly to the edge of the cot to throw up on the floor.

Snape stood back quickly, narrowly missing vomit on his shoes. He backed up some more as Madam Pomfrey moved just as quickly to spell it away.

“Replenishing Potion,” Draco said through a burned throat. This wasn’t the first time he was throwing up and he looked really tired of it. He rinsed out his mouth with the glass of water and spat it out on the floor as Madam Pomfrey had directed him to do before and lay back groaning. He covered his face with the pillow once more, absently hearing an _Evanesco_ being said by the school nurse.

Snape shut his eyes. He took a hold of Draco’s hand to inspect it. There was a reason he didn’t usually teach that potion until seventh year. There was also a reason why he usually made it into a research project. It used blood magic. Not a lot – one drop – but if he had been the one teaching the class, there would be more than a few inquiring stares from students and perhaps a few letters from parents.

He frowned. Draco still had the tell tale ridge from a cut. “He hasn’t healed.” The benefit of the Replenishing Potion was that it healed the cut one made to procure the drop of blood when it was tested.

Madam Pomfrey cleared her throat. “I can’t heal him,” she said, clearly worried about that fact. “I tried to but the spell didn’t work.”

Snape’s frown became deeper. “But the potion should have done that for you.”

“It didn’t work either,” said the muffled voice behind the pillow. Snape turned back to his prized pupil, confused.

“You made it incorrectly?” Now this did surprise him, even if Draco was now sick and the potion was a potential suspect.

That subtle rocking returned. “No, according to Potter’s notes, we made it perfectly.”

“Notes?” Snape eyed his other two House members.

“Slughorn made us copy out the recipe first to get rid of unneeded materials on the worktables,” Pansy said.

Even though he would have done the same thing, Snape rolled his eyes. “I will take the sample you’ve left me and analyse it. I dread to think what I’ll find. Since it did not work as it should have, you likely drank something completely different.” That could be a problem. Botched potion or not, it used blood magic, so it could have some unusual side effects. He turned to Madam Pomfrey. “You did a scan?”

She nodded. “Yes, and the odd thing is, according to the scan, there is absolutely nothing wrong with him besides an irregularity with his power level. That can be explained by the unknown potion, though, since the ingestion of something foreign always messes with the magic in a wizard. Just to be sure, I scanned his head and the scan is stating there is no migraine.” Her worried expression did not waver. If anything, it became more pronounced. “But even Mr Malfoy is not that good an actor. I honestly don’t know what’s wrong. I am hoping the potion can give me more of a hint. If not, I’ll have to call St Mungo’s.”

Draco groaned and tried to bury himself further into the cot. “Have you given him anything?” Snape asked frowning. He shouldn’t be in this much pain.

Madam Pomfrey looked scandalised. “Of course! I would never have a child in pain without due cause. I gave him a Pain Potion a half hour ago. It didn’t work. I then tried the Extra Strength Pain Potion. That didn’t work either.”

 _Resistance_? Snape thought to himself. _Impossible, I brewed those pain potions myself._ He had to get to his quarters as soon as possible.

“I’ll return as soon as I can. Draco, I suggest you stay here.” All he received in reply was a lazy thumb up before the hand collapsed on the pillow again.

“Can I be knocked unconscious?” he heard as he left the wing.

“I heard Malfoy’s in the Hospital Wing. What did you do to him, Harry?” She shook her head. “It’s so early in the term, couldn’t you wait a while?”

Harry looked up from the Defence book he was reading. Stupid Snape had set a test for tomorrow. Thank God tomorrow was Friday. Hermione was staring at him reproachfully. “What? I haven’t even seen him since our detention three days ago. And, anyway, it’s October, Hermione.” It was true. Potions was on Monday and Tuesday mornings and, since their detention Monday night, he was lucky if he could spot Malfoy in the corridor. Transfiguration didn’t count, since it had been before their detention Monday evening and he could hardly stay awake during History of Magic with the Slytherins, so he couldn’t say if Malfoy had been there. He didn’t share any other classes with the Slytherins. It was frustrating because, since their ‘fight’ on the train (though he really couldn’t call it that, as Malfoy had had to Petrify him in order to win), he had actually been trying to figure out the cryptic words the blond had told his little band of followers: _‘Merlin, it would have been easier, had I not been away. Though, really, I’m yet to be sure if it’s a blessing or curse that I have to prove myself first.’_

 _What did that even mean? Is he talking about Voldemort?_ Harry stared ahead in thought. _What had Malfoy meant? Is he one of them or not?_

Hermione’s eyebrows rose. “Funny you should say that, since it’s that exact detention that seems to be the culprit for his illness.”

Taken away from his thoughts, Harry looked up at Hermione again. “Illness?” he said surprised.

Hermione nodded once. “Illness,” she repeated.

Harry looked back down at his textbook but the page could have been blank for all that it mattered. “But he was fine on Tuesday,” he said to himself. “It didn’t even work,” he added, looking back up at his best friend. “You sure he’s not faking?” he asked.

“It didn’t work?” Hermione asked in return and crossed her arms. “ _Malfoy_ made a potion and it _didn’t_ work?” Harry shook his head. Obviously not catching the meaning behind what Hermione was saying. “What – did you do it by yourself?” She gasped. “He left you to do it by yourself, didn’t he?” she said. He could already see the report she wanted to make to McGonagall forming in her mind.

Finally understanding, Harry felt a little insulted. It wasn’t true but, just because Malfoy didn’t participate didn’t mean that a potion Harry made would fail. He’d proven that in Slughorn’s class a lot since he got the Half Blood Prince’s textbook. “No, Hermione, we did actually work together. We had to or else Professor McGonagall wouldn’t have let us out,” he said picking at his finger.

Hermione looked dubious. “She was there the whole time?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, marking papers. Until he had to test it,” he added with a smile. He was sick of being Snape’s lab rat. “His face was priceless when nothing happened. Of course, he blamed it on me.” Hermione sat back, the wind taken out of her sails. “If the potion didn’t work, what do you think it could be?” Harry asked. Hermione shrugged.

“I don’t usually partake in gossip, you know that.” Harry nodded dutifully, knowing how to respond by now. If nothing else, Hermione had trained her boys well. “But I overheard the Ravenclaws in the library talking about it. I was only interested in it because your name was mentioned. Since your detention was at the heart of it, I wanted to make sure.” She let her hands fall heavily in her lap. “Are you staying up to study for the test tomorrow?” Harry nodded. “You’re better than Ron, at least. I don’t think he’s even picked up the textbook.”

Harry smiled. Ron never was able to read more than a page before spontaneously developing narcolepsy.

“I’ll see you in the morning then,” Hermione said to him with a yawn.

Harry nodded again with a smile at his best friend as she went upstairs again. His face soon melted into a marginal frown. _What could have happened to Malfoy?_ His thumb ran over the healing cut on his index finger. It had been there since their detention. He’d tried to heal it, but, when that didn’t work, he’d shrugged it off. It seemed to be healing on its own and wasn’t bleeding anymore. Three days later and it was a sealed ridge that his thumb knew by heart. _It’s not a big deal,_ he thought to himself as he looked at the palm of his right hand. ‘I will not tell lies’ stood out in contrasted white lines. _I’ve had worse._ He fisted his hand and turned it away to instead study the newest mark on his left index finger. He surveyed the healing skin. The pricking had been the bad part; it had stung a lot to get those two drops of blood. Malfoy had one on his finger, although, since he drank the potion, it was supposed to heal. When it didn’t, the blond had looked up in confusion. They’d followed everything to the letter and Harry had copied out everything word for word – with some extra help from the Half Blood Prince, of course. It didn’t make sense.

Draco sat up to drink the glass of water Madam Pomfrey gave him. It was ice cold and a great relief to his throat. Since it was now Sunday, he was planning on spending the rest of the day in his own bed trying to relax as much as possible. “No,” he answered. “I actually feel better now that light isn’t staging a guerrilla attack against my temples and sucking out my brain with a straw.” He lay back again, relaxing against the pillows that propped him up against the headboard.

“Wonderful,” Blaise said shivering at the imagery. He was sitting in a chair to the side next to Pansy. As soon as she’d woken, she’d dragged him out of bed with the intention of going back to the Hospital Wing. Honestly, sometimes Blaise didn’t know if she wanted to be Draco’s girlfriend or his mother. “You should go into creative writing.”

Draco licked his lips. “That’s not creative. It’s just fact.”

“And your stomach?” Pansy said, leaning forward to put her hand on his stomach.

“No longer tying itself in knots, Pans, thanks.” She liked to touch him and he liked to be touched so, usually, he let her have at it. Only, this time, it set him on edge, so he gently moved her hand. She frowned a little, but let it go. He was probably still sore.

Across from them sat Professor Snape. Draco was glad he was dealing with him instead of Professor Slughorn. The man would probably try to get him to join his little band of overachievers if he did. He’d rather deal with his Head of House anyway. Professor Snape rolled his eyes at the display and beckoned Madam Pomfrey over. “I went over the results of your potion, Mr Malfoy. I have good news, and I have bad news.”

“Start with the good. I need good news after what I went through over the last few days.”

Snape sat back. “Well, the potion you made was correctly brewed.” It was expertly brewed, actually, and very strong. Snape was both surprised and perplexed that the two of them had made a potion that was so potent.

Draco’s eyebrows rose before they furrowed. “But, my finger-”

“Yes, that’s the bad news. You didn’t actually _make_ a Replenishing Potion.” He sat forward. He had no idea how to phrase this. He started with some back story. “There are actually a few reasons why I usually have a research project for potions like this one. They require more attention and understanding. More so than even you – but _especially_ Potter – would spend on them before you attempted them. This is mainly because Blood Magic is not only dangerous, but incredibly tricky if you do not do it correctly. However, it is also because it allows me to ensure you are brewing the correct potion instead of one that can bring about... unexpected results,” he finished carefully.

“So... what did we brew?” Draco’s voice trembled, though he tried hard to camouflage it.

Snape sat in silence for a second too long and it almost seemed as if he wouldn’t say anything. In the end, he took out a book from his pocket that he’d resized years ago to make it easier to carry. The students recognised it as their textbook. They’d never thought to do that. Their Head of House flipped through the pages with the familiarity of practice and settled on a page. The writing was small, but the titles were clear as day. “The textbook is divided into categories.” The Slytherins nodded. They were aware of that already. It made understanding the properties of the potions easier. Usually, their bases were made up of the same ingredients too. “The section you were in covered growth and replenishment. However, since you didn’t have your book, like so many others, you did not get to copy out your own notes, am I correct?” He knew it was, but it was good to stall for a moment longer.

Draco nodded. Potter had refused to lend it to him, stating that, since he didn’t need a book, and because he knew everything, he could write them from memory. Draco rolled his eyes. _Prick_.

The nurse leaned forward to see the title Snape had his finger on and gasped, her eyes switching between the page and Draco’s form more than once. _Was that... sympathy_?Snape turned the book around so they could finally see. “Fer...” Draco trailed off, the air from his lungs cutting out in time to make him silent. A greenish tint coloured his face. He sat back and stared across the room at the wall. “But then...” His hand ran over his sore abdomen and a look of foreboding passed across his face. “No...” He shook his head. “No, that’s – that’s not possible.”

Snape looked away, his eyes falling on the nurse. “Madam Pomfrey, if you would.” He gestured for the nurse to come forward.

Being versed enough in Potions to follow along, the nurse eyed the Potions Master as if he were a few ingredients short of a brew. “For a male? I’m not sure if that would even work.”

“It should look for the same properties.” He gestured for her to go ahead.

Madam Pomfrey came forward, taking her wand from its holster in her sleeve and pronounced the spell as clearly as she could. A burst of mist emitted from the tip of her wand and fell over Draco. It ebbed and flowed over him before coming to rest over his abdomen. He was shaking his head at it in denial when it turned blue.

Blaise’s eyes were wide. Pansy’s were a matching pair. “Fucking Merlin,” Draco whispered and Blaise agreed.

“Mr Malf-” Her chastisement was stopped by Professor Snape.

“I think, this once, we can let it go.” He looked up at his student. Draco was staring at the cloud of blue mist with a mixture horror and awe. “It seems you have achieved the impossible, Mr Malfoy. You’ve actually got _yourself_ pregnant. A feat none other can boast, I believe.” Most couples unable to have children went through the trouble of paying professionals to brew potions at exorbitant prices. They then had to take the daily supplements for a month before even ingesting one. Following that were bi-weekly check-ups with a Medi-wizard, which would span out to weekly and monthly visits as the time passed. That he’d managed it by accident, and had impregnated _himself_ was, in fact, incredible.

Draco’s hands covered his face. “Oh Merlin,” he groaned behind them.

“Draco,” Pansy voiced quietly.

Draco decided he’d had enough for one evening and pointedly disregarded any other knowledge. “This is a joke, right? Because it’s not funny,” he finished in a whisper.

“Mr Malfoy, you hardly see me laughing as it is. You think I’d begin my comedic career with a joke such as this?”

Draco heaved a heavy sigh. “Can I go to my room now?” He looked at the two adults who were watching him carefully.

Madam Pomfrey seemed sympathetic but all Draco could see was pity. “Are you sure, dear? Medically, I can’t keep you here, but if you feel upset in any way, I think you should stay.”

Draco shook his head. “I’d really rather feel my own bed tonight,” he said to the kinder-than-usual nurse. “I’d feel much better, I think.”

Pomfrey seemed unsure, but due to all he’d gone through for five days straight, she decided to bend her rules. “Well, alright dear,” she said and put up a finger. “But if you feel ill, or if your stomach is upset, you come straight here. You tell Filch I called for you.”

Draco nodded this time. “I will, Madam. Thank you.”

Snape stood. “Mr Malfoy, I’ll accompany you all to the dungeons.”

“Can you stand?” Pansy asked. A logical question, since Draco hadn’t been on his feet for nearly a week. He’d only stopped writhing in pain yesterday. He was still sore now, and the wince proved it when he sat up properly to swing his legs off the cot. He wasn’t aware of how many muscles were used to move his legs like that. Huh. Draco looked down to his abdomen and rubbed it. All the pain made sense now. He couldn't expect to grow a- He shut his eyes and blocked that thought out. He couldn’t think of that now. He didn’t want to think of anything right now.

He made it back to his room without any further problems and, finally, fell into a real sleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Snape watched him for a moment as his breathing evened out and turned to his two other students. “You need to watch him. He’ll still be out of sorts for a while. Even if he were female, this would all be a shock to his system.” The two nodded to him and he sighed. “I’m going to have to inform the Headmaster.” The Headmaster wasn’t who worried him, though. No, he worried about what would happen when the news caught up to Draco’s parents. He turned to leave, shutting the door quietly behind him.

The next morning was no better. Draco was all for pretending nothing happened until he felt the, now familiar, churning of his stomach remind him. After dressing for the day, he packed his bag, preparing himself for a week’s worth of catching up in a day and made his way to the hall for breakfast with Blaise and Pansy. Halfway through, he wanted to die, go back to bed and never come out again. Perhaps even in that order.

“Why, the hell, am I so tired?” he whined quietly. He eyed the plate Pansy made up for him hungrily and wondered if he had enough energy to lift his fork.

Pansy looked over at him. “Well, you are... you know.”

Draco grumbled. “Shut up, Pansy.” He pushed his plate away and dropped his head down on his arms.

Blaise stuck some pancakes on his fork and piled them on his plate. Draco watched him from where his head rested. It seemed Blaise was eating for Draco as well as his plus one. “Stick it out until break. Potions is next and, during break, we’ll find an empty classroom and you can sleep for an hour.”

Draco raised his head to stare at his friend. Blaise never let anyone sleep during the day. School was ‘far too important’. Draco had once made the mistake of telling Blaise he was skipping a Defence class. It had brought out a lecture of mass proportions. All Draco got from it was that Blaise was aiming for high grades so he could get a good job that allowed him to travel. He saw it as the only way to break out of his home and away from his Black Widow of a mother. “Break is only twenty minutes,” he reminded him.

Blaise drizzled some more syrup onto his pancakes. “Not if you’ve ‘gone to the Hospital Wing’.”

It was a trick. It had to be. That or this wasn’t Blaise sitting next to him. He looked across at Pansy. She’d paused with her fork halfway to her mouth. _So it isn’t just me._ “Is that a threat, or an act of kindness?”

Blaise finally paused from his favourite meal of the day. “It’s a kindness. You’re fragile.”

Draco sat up straight, indignant. “I am not!”

Blaise gave him an obvious look. “I _dare_ you to lean over and smell Gregory’s pancakes.”

Gregory Goyle didn’t even pause in the consumption of his pancakes. Draco took one look and inched away. He’d missed the Initiation during the summer break. He’d been chosen to attend, but his mother had landed a surprise holiday on him at the last minute under his father’s nose. It really was a surprise. It was so surprising, he couldn’t even remember travelling. All he knew was that he’d woken up with his mother, in a cabin, in the middle of nowhere. It was a lovely break and, if he let himself admit it, he was a little bit relieved he’d got the reprieve. Still, once he arrived on the Hogwarts train, certain members of his House were ignoring him completely. Blaise and Pansy were still speaking to him and he was grateful for that. He was a social snake, after all. He didn’t think he could survive if he was completely ostracized. He decided to think little of the fact that Blaise and Pansy only spoke to him because they were being ostracized too. Blaise’s mother wanted nothing at all to do with any man who called himself a Lord with no credentials. Pansy lost her father to a raid three months ago, so her mother took care of her now. The woman was more than overprotective and, during the summer break, Pansy and her sister had barely been allowed to leave the house to go into the gardens.

Pansy had entered the train looking frazzled enough to scream as she waved to her mother and her little sister, who stared at her mournfully through the glass, from the compartment window. She’d asked Blaise and Draco how their summers went and, to get her mind off what had happened to her family, they’d both launched into a diatribe about their parents’ strange ways. Draco had immediately sought council on how to approach the roundabout task his father had given him from The Dark Lord. Apparently, because he’d missed the Initiation, he now had to _earn_ his mark. He was of two minds on whether or not he was truly grateful his mother had secreted him away in the middle of the night. It would have all been easier had she let it be. He wouldn’t have to cope with being ignored then. The only uplifting part of the journey was the fact that Potter had been snooping around. He’d dealt with it accordingly, though. The boy’s nose broke easily.

Draco turned away from Greg. Just looking at him eat made Draco gag. Damn. “You promise?” If Blaise was telling the truth, Draco even had a place he could be hidden for an hour to sleep in peace.

Blaise nodded once as he ravaged his pancakes with his knife and fork. “Promise.”

Harry walked up the front steps of the school with Dumbledore walking next to him. He wasn't looking so good. There was a black area on his hand that he swore had grown since he’d seen it in September. Since their foray into Slughorn’s memories, this hunting for Horcruxes thing was getting tiring. He checked his watch. Urgh, he had Transfiguration now too. He wondered if he could get a note to dismiss him from class.

“I’m afraid not, Harry. It is the reason we made sure to come back at this time, after all.” Harry sighed. It was true. As he said goodbye to Dumbledore and turned toward the north towers to get his things for Transfiguration, he paused on the stairs. _Wait_. Dumbledore had read his mind again. Harry shook his head. The man didn’t even look as if he could hold a normal conversation, let alone overhear one that wasn’t even being said aloud. He really needed to practice some more _Occlumency_. He’d lick his own arse before asking Snape to help him, though. He already had extra lessons with the man on Tuesdays and Fridays. He didn’t know what Dumbledore was thinking assigning him as the Defence teacher.

 _Although_ , they had covered a lot of information since he’d taken over the position. And a lot of the information was useful to them, especially Harry, who’d found himself dodging curses and hexes left right and centre, while dealing with Voldemort traps over his pieces of soul. Harry sighed again. Just when he thought Voldemort couldn’t get any more disgusting, he finds out the man split his soul into pieces. He shook his head as he cleared the last set of steps. The Fat Lady greeted him with a smile as he walked up to her, swinging open cheerfully when he gave her the password.

It didn’t take long to grab his bag. He’d already packed it the night before, when Dumbledore had sent a note to tell him they were going out and coming back before his Transfiguration class. It was break now, so he could take his time getting to the fourth floor. He’d just cleared the library and turned the corner to see everyone walking in. They shared this class with the Slytherins. One of four classes he shared with them. He was grateful for that reprieve. He didn’t think he could handle anymore.

When Harry walked in, McGonagall had already begun class and he took a seat in the middle row next to Hermione and Ron. As he settled down, Harry frowned and looked around. The Transfiguration class was full. Professor McGonagall stood at the front explaining solid to liquid transformations. They’d have to drink their results – probably a motivation technique to get the spell right. He glanced down distractedly at his cup of broken bricks. _I’m supposed to drink that?_ He glanced back up again, perusing the full class. Since his talk with Hermione last week, all he’d had on his mind was Malfoy. He didn’t turn up for Defence or Charms on Friday and he’d barely responded in Potions earlier. One more glance back and Harry noticed that neither Parkinson, nor Zabini, seemed to notice Malfoy was absent. Something wasn’t right. He had to know what was going on. _If he’s trying to prove himself to get his mark, he could be setting something up right now._ The theory for the class was more or less simple. Harry took his notes and tried out the incantation once before raising his hand to go to the bathroom.

Once he arrived in the bathroom, Harry pulled out his map and spread it out over the sink, making sure it was dry before he laid it down. “I solemnly swear I am up to no good.” Harry searched and searched, but he couldn’t find Draco Malfoy’s name. He frowned. “He’s not here.” He looked up into the bathroom mirror. _Was it possible to leave school grounds without permission?_ Then again, who was to say Malfoy didn’t get permission to go. His father could have requested, agreed and even signed for it. Quickly spelling it blank, Harry folded the map and shoved it in his pocket. He hurried back to class and sat quietly, waiting for McGonagall to pass his table. Once she was gone, he turned to Hermione. He wasn’t ready to talk to Ron about this yet. Every time he brought up the idea that there was something going on, Ron either rolled his eyes or told him to stop talking.

“Malfoy isn’t here.”

Hermione turned to him and then looked behind her. She gave him a sigh. “Alright,” she said hoping a little enabling would get Harry to shut up. She turned back to her glass of sand and tried the incantation again. Her eyes narrowed. It was the right colour, but from the smell, that wasn’t orange juice. She frowned. _Should I taste it_?

Harry held onto her wrist. “No, you don’t understand. Not ‘here’ as in class.” He put his hand on hers to stop her from working. He ignored her glare. “He’s not in the school.”

This time, Hermione directed her puzzled gaze at her best friend. Finally, he had her attention. “Ron. Taste this for me,” she said without breaking eye contact. Ron had a stomach like iron anyway, he wouldn’t die. “What do you mean he’s not in school?” she asked Harry.

“I took the map to the bathroom to look for him.” He ignored her slightly disgusted look and continued. “He’s not on the map. He’s not in school.”

“Harry,” she said and then sighed. She put down her wand. “You’re-”

“Grape.”

Hermione turned to Ron. “What?” She stared at her glass like it had offended her heritage. “It’s supposed to be _orange_.” She shook her head and glared at her glass of yellow grape juice some more. With a frustrated expression, she turned to Harry. “Harry, can we talk about your sudden obsession with Malfoy later? I need to figure out what I’m doing wrong.”

Harry shook his head. No one could see Malfoy was up to something bad. He was used to it by now. He unconsciously touched his nose. He’d figure out what it was though. Mark his words.

Draco’s hour long sleep was everything he’d hoped it would be, but by the time he woke up properly (and not from the alarm Blaise had set with his wand) it was already time for lunch. He made his way out of the Room of Requirement and towards the Great Hall. He spotted Pansy immediately sitting alone at the end of their House table. She caught sight of him too, since she’d been watching the doors since she sat down. He sat next to her, actually feeling hungry for the first time in the day. He hadn’t felt sick at all since he’d woken up and he was glad for the clemency. He aimed to take advantage of it. “Where’s Blaise?” he asked as he spooned mash potatoes onto his plate.

“He went to look for you,” she said picking up another plate. “Just so you know, Potter is looking at you. Has been since you walked in,” she said dishing food onto it and placing it beside her.

“What?” he asked and before she could tell him not to look, his eyes had already tracked to the area of the hall where Potter always sat. True enough, Harry Potter was staring at him. What on earth for, he had no idea. Draco was sure Potter didn’t know. He couldn’t possibly know. “He doesn’t... he _couldn’t_ -”

She waved her fork to dismiss him. “Oh, don’t be stupid. Between yesterday and today none of us have been in contact with him and Madam Pomfrey has to keep everything confidential. The only person Professor Snape has to tell is Dumbledore.” Pansy began eating her dinner, cutting it neatly. “Your parents, now that’s up to you.” She ignored Draco’s glare. When she noticed Blaise come in, she waved her fork again to get his attention. Blaise came over quickly.

Blaise’s gaze was directed at Draco. “Where were you? You missed the last class and when I went to get you, you were gone.” He looked angry.

 _Damnit_. Draco knew the easy-going version of Blaise from this morning was too good to be true. He looked across at him, studiously ignoring the stare from the Gryffindor table. “I ignored your alarm and then followed the sweet smell of lunch.” He bit into a piece of chicken dripping with rich gravy. Heaven.

Blaise rolled his eyes and accepted the plate Pansy finished putting together for him while they were talking. “You’ll have to use my notes then.”

Now that was surprising. Maybe the earlier version had somehow merged with the usual one. “Of course. I need to catch up don’t I?” He broke into a soft dinner roll.

Blaise shook his head. “Yeah, but you’ll have to decide whether you want to catch up on your work, or your sleep.”

 _Perhaps not, then_. It was Draco’s turn to roll his eyes. He threw a piece of his roll at Blaise as Pansy laughed at his expense. “Ha, ha.”

“Mr Malfoy.”

Draco spun around, his heart jumping up to his throat. “Professor.” Snape stood behind him staring oddly at his reaction. Draco didn’t know why. The man had practically crept up on him.

“If I might have a word,” he said and walked a little ways away.

Draco looked at both Pansy and Blaise before getting up to follow him. “Yes, Sir?”

“Mr... Draco,” Snape amended, seeing that they were relatively alone. Now, Draco was worried. “I have mentioned your condition to the Headmaster and he brought up a valid question that I had not thought to ask and, subsequently, believe you have not thought to ask of yourself.” Draco’s face remained the same. “You may think it inconsequential, or you may not want to think about it now, but you are going to have to make a decision soon.” He paused a second, gathering his words. “Draco,” he said finally. “Are you going to keep it?”

A weight dropped out of Draco’s stomach, forming a large hollow area so empty it seemed tangible. “Oh, fucking...” He’d been so close to forgetting, so close to an evening where he didn’t have to think about this and, in one sentence, Snape had taken that all away. No, he couldn’t think about this right now. He tried to annunciate this point with his finger, but, problem was, no words were coming out. His gesture receded into a fist and he shook his head, moving away, before walking as close to a near run as he could. Before he was out the door, Snape turned to Blaise and Pansy and cocked his head in Draco’s general direction. They sighed, gathering their things immediately, Blaise getting in one more forkful of peas.

“If it is needed. You are excused from your classes. All three of you.” The Former Potions Professor walked to the Head Table for dinner.

Pansy had already exited the hall, but Blaise had stayed behind to get instructions and nodded. He followed at a more sedate pace, swinging Draco’s bag over his shoulder.

“Is it about You-Know-Who?” Harry nodded to Ron, while staring across the hall. He had to tell them, despite what Dumbledore said. This kind of news was far too much of a burden to carry by himself. Next to him, Ron nodded and turned to Hermione to give her the message that they had to have a private meeting.

Movement across the hall made him snap his attention back to the Slytherin table. Harry studied the Slytherin trio. He almost chuckled at the name. He wondered what other names people had come up with for them. Then again, Harry wondered a lot of things. He watched as Pansy took off with her bag at Snape’s subtle gesture. He continued to watch as Blaise spoke with Snape before following. Everyone else stayed put. Crabbe and Goyle had stopped hanging off Malfoy and he wanted to know why. He wanted to know why Malfoy, Zabini and Parkinson always seemed to be sitting alone, even when among their peers. Harry’s gaze then settled on the rest of Slytherin House. Only a few were watching what was going on, but most of them were ignoring the group, like they didn’t exist. They either didn’t know what was happening, or didn’t care.

Harry also wanted to know why Malfoy had been in the Hospital Wing since last Tuesday, but even though he’d been stalking them all with his map, he was no closer to finding out. It seemed the gossip train ended at his stay and left out the purpose. It puzzled and intrigued him in equal measure.

What the hell was going on?

Draco’s hand was shaking as he turned the tap to get some water to wash his face. He fisted his hands on the white porcelain in an effort to stop them. It didn’t work. With his hands anchored, he could feel the trembling in his bones. Shit. “What the fuck am I doing?” he whispered. He looked up at his reflection. He hardly recognised himself. “What are you doing?” It was a valid question. “What’s wrong with you?”

 _You’re scared_.

It was true. He’d been speechless in the hall, but his mind was still racing. It scared him that this was happening. It scared him that he was going to have to tell his parents, but it scared him even more that, as soon as Snape asked that question, he’d already had an answer in his mind and only his speechlessness had stopped him from blurting it out so urgently. “You’re crazy.” If he wasn’t, he certainly felt like he was.

“Draco?” He turned and saw Blaise poking his head in. Once he’d got confirmation, his head disappeared. Seconds later, Pansy strode in. She dropped her bag on the ground as she walked and wrapped her arms around him.

“What happened with Snape?” Blaise asked. He was always one to be blunt.

Draco leaned against the sink, Pansy and all. “He asked if I wanted to keep it.”

Blaise crossed his arms. Pansy looked up from her spot under his arm. “And?”

Draco let out a derisive laugh and covered his face with his hands before raking them back through his hair. He kept them up behind his head. All the better to get in the air that Pansy was squeezing out of him. “Pansy, love, please, I need to breathe. Remember, breathing for two here.” Merlin, if that didn’t sound strange coming from him. Pansy let out a small chuckle.

“And?” Blaise repeated, not letting Draco think or have a break.

“And...” He trailed off and looked again at his reflection in the mirror over Pansy’s head. He couldn’t lie. Not to them. Not to himself. “Yeah.” He looked away and shook his head at his decision. “I do.” He leaned forward, suddenly feeling winded. “I just... it’s really a lot to take in, you know? I still don’t believe it, but... Snape wouldn’t lie about this, right?” Their expressions reflected in the mirror were enough of an answer, but they shook their heads anyway. Draco nodded in thanks and ran his hands down his face again.

“What the fuck am I going to do?” He sounded exhausted. He _was_ exhausted, even after that wonderful nap he’d just had.

“Well, first things first, you need to contact your parents.” Blaise could say he was delighted at the pale shade of green Draco turned at his words.

Draco narrowed his eyes. He didn’t find this the least bit funny. He shook his head. “I can’t.”

“Of course you can.” Blaise could see the blatant terror in Draco’s eyes and the scolding glare permeating from Pansy’s. He sighed and switched tactics. “Think about it, they’ll get an heir. They’ll actually be off your back, which is more than can be said for the rest of us.” He shared a glance with Pansy, who nodded with a wry smile. She knew where he was coming from. “You get it done now and everything’s wrapped up in a lovely bow.” He was satisfied when the tinge of green turned back into a healthy pink. “Plus, it’ll be a pureblood. They’ll be delighted, if a little freaked out at the same time,” he conceded.

Draco began to laugh, but it was empty of humour. “No.” He broke free of Pansy’s grip.

“Draco,” Pansy said stepping forward.

Draco put up a hand to stop the inevitable hug. “No, you don’t understand.” He paused and seemed to be gathering courage. Blaise frowned in concern. It usually didn’t take much for Draco to talk. The blond took a deep breath and then forced it out. “It won’t be a pureblood.”

Surprise turned to concern, concern morphed into confusion. “But you’re the father. And the mother,” Blaise added. “You can’t _get_ more pureblooded than that.”

“Or inbred,” Pansy said with a small smile.

Draco did smile, despite himself, and Pansy was glad for it. “Well, if you want to get technical, I’m only the mother.” The word was distasteful in his mouth, almost as distasteful as the rest of his secret.

Blaise was silent. Draco knew he was working it out in his mind. The best thing about Blaise was that he thought a problem out before voicing his opinions. It wasn’t often he was stuck on something and he never asked stupid questions, preferring to work out the situation before he spoke. His dark forehead smoothened, but then furrowed again and Draco knew why he did that also. He, too, had read the Potions textbook as soon as he returned to the dorm. The similarities in the two potions – the one they were meant to brew and the one they did brew – were astonishing. The key differences could be missed if one wasn’t versed enough, or had never come across them before. Replenishing Potion took one drop of blood from the brewer. The term used in the Fertility Potion he and Potter had brewed, stated it needed one drop from the ‘maker’, a profound difference made stronger by the fact that Potter had written ‘two drops of the makers’ and therefore the both of them had given two drops each. Given the situation Draco found himself in, he counted himself lucky he wasn’t having twins. Or more.

It was only a matter of time. Draco hadn’t made the potion alone and if he wasn’t the other father then Blaise wouldn’t take long to figure out who was. “ _No_.” Blaise said profoundly, realising what Draco already knew.

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“What?” Pansy asked, not wanting to be left out.

Blaise began to shake his head. “Not Potter.”

That humourless laugh resurfaced, as did the roiling in his stomach. He wrapped an arm around it. “Yeah.”

“What?” Pansy asked, now more confused than before.

“I’m so screwed.” Draco said.

“Yeah, you are,” Blaise answered him and then did something he’d never done before. He stepped forward and pulled Draco into a hug. “Merlin, I’m so sorry.”

Pansy watched this once in a lifetime scene. “Okay, seriously, what is going on?” The explanation was bound to be incredible.

I’m going for a shower,” Ron said as he grabbed up his towel and made his way to the door.

Harry nodded at him, even though the redhead couldn’t see him and said, “Have fun.” He received a two finger salute for his troubles. The door closed and Harry shook his head in mirth at his best friend. As soon as the door shut, Harry dug under his pillow to fish out his map. He spread it open in front of him and gave the incantation to unlock it.

As the inked map of Hogwarts bled out onto the parchment, Harry instantly began searching for the familiar set of footprints he’d been virtually stalking for the week. He’d actually spent the majority of the week between his books and his map. Since his first discovery that Malfoy could leave school grounds, during school hours, with no one the wiser, he was rapidly becoming obsessed with finding out how and where Draco was going. He’d set up various charms around the exits he did know about, like the one-eyed-witch statue that led to Honeydukes, but so far none had been triggered, nor had they been removed. The most Malfoy had done was go to class, stay in his dorm and – for some reason – make regular visits to the boys bathroom on the third floor. He was at a loss.

In classes, he had taken to staring in Malfoy’s direction, which gained him a glare or two not only from Malfoy, but Parkinson and Zabini too. This confused him. Not so much Parkinson, but Zabini. The boy was usually so aloof and dismissive of anything he wasn’t interested in. For him to take the time to glare – even glance – in Harry’s direction, meant he was doing it for a reason, most likely to leave Malfoy alone.

Interesting.

The door opened and Ron walked back in with just his towel around his waist. “Forgot my flannel...” He frowned at Harry, who, with his hair sticking up in all directions and the deer-in-headlights look he was sporting, looked like a startled owl. “What are you doing?” he asked suspiciously. When he noticed the map spread out on Harry’s bed, Ron rolled his eyes. “Are you stalking Malfoy, again?” Harry blushed and began folding the map. “Harry, mate, you need to get a hobby.” The redhead turned and left for the final time.

As soon as he disappeared, Harry opened the map up again. Malfoy’s footsteps were pacing in his room. Harry stared at the steps. Malfoy was most likely trying to figure out something. He’d heard him say on the train – before the bastard had broken his nose for gaining intel – that he now had to prove himself to get into Voldemort’s fold. Harry sat back and stared at his ceiling. The blond was a coward, so it was likely he would try something secondary, something where he didn’t need to be physically linked to the event. Harry turned and stared off at a wall in thought. If he could catch Malfoy leaving the school grounds, maybe he could find out what it was.

Whether or not Hermione and Ron believed him, he’d figure it out by himself. Tomorrow, he’d stay on his tail.

“Draco, you okay? What – did you eat something bad?” There was no answer. Pansy was ready to pull out her hair. It was a week later and they were back in the same bathroom, a place that was, somehow, turning into their base of operations. Blaise shared a look with Pansy. He hadn’t really meant to come in here. He’d only done it because she’d pushed him in to make sure the blond was okay. Much good that did, since she’d come on in anyway a few seconds later. They’d managed to keep everything under wraps for a whole week now. Draco, however, couldn’t do the same with his stomach. She rapped on the door lightly, looking pale. He didn’t blame her, Draco had been more that irritable lately. Anything said in his direction was taken as an insult and he’d hex the speaker almost immediately. Blaise sighed, agitated.

“Look, Malfoy, if you’re alive, can you at least knock on the door before Pansy faints with worry.” Pansy whacked him in the chest, indignant. The paleness on her face had faded a little with the flush of her cheeks, though. So, at least she didn’t look like she was about to throw up anymore.

He frowned. No knock and still no answer.

Both of them turned as the door to the boy’s bathroom opened. Harry Potter and Ron Weasley paused in their conversation. Weasley eyed the two Slytherins and then looked at the bathroom entrance beside him, probably to make sure the correct sign was on the door. When he assured himself that, yes, he had come in through the right bathroom door, he simply surveyed the two of them carefully, waiting for a reaction, or an explanation. Either would do.

Blaise was content to keep quiet, but Pansy, apparently aware of the fact that Draco was still not answering, had reached her limit and was willing to stoop low enough to _ask_ for help. “Potter! Please, you have to help!”

Blaise shoved her. “Are you kidding me? Shut the fuck up.” He glared at her, gesturing with his hands and expression to signify he thought she was crazy.

Pansy gestured helplessly to the bathroom stall Draco had holed himself up in. “He’s-”

Blaise pointed at Harry, who frowned, his glance going to and fro. “He’s not going to want _his_ help,” he said angrily. “So shut up. We can handle it.”

Pansy’s face went red. “For all we know, he’s dead. You want that on your conscience?” He could see a glistening in her eyes and noticed when she started blinking quicker. Crap.

“Who’s dead?” Pansy turned back around. Anticipating, Blaise put his hand over her mouth.

“No one. If you’re here to piss, I suggest you get it over with or find another bathroom.” He looked between them. “Unless you’re here to make out or something, in which case _please_ find another bathroom.”

His words had the desired effect with Weasley. The redhead turned red in the face, anger painted all over him. He backed up. “Come on, Harry, leave the snakes to their plotting.” He walked outside and the door swung shut slowly behind him.

Harry Potter, however, stood there looking between the two Slytherins and the stall door. This was the bathroom on the third floor they were always huddled around in. If he remembered correctly, it was always Malfoy on one side and Zabini and Parkinson facing him on the other. Judging from what he was seeing now, the situation here wasn’t all that different. He dropped his bag. Today was the day.

“It’s Malfoy, isn’t it?” Despite Zabini’s attempts to censor her, Parkinson hummed and nodded her head behind his hand. “I’ve been victim enough to Malfoy’s tactics.” His green gaze stayed on Zabini. “He hasn’t taught you well. I saw straight through that.” He saw the boy’s offended expression, but ignored it. Instead, he simply walked up to the stall and cocked his head to the side. The Gryffindor turned and eyed the only girl in the room, realising he would get more out of her than Zabini. “He looked pale this morning, and in Potions he was too busy looking sick to laugh at me when I botched up the practical.” He took out his wand. “You tried _Alohomora_ and _Finite_ , I guess?” Parkinson nodded again behind Zabini’s hand. The boy removed it, since, obviously, it wasn’t helping.

“Harry! What are you doing?” Harry turned back to the bathroom door. Ron, having walked away, had realised that Harry wasn’t beside him, and returned, staring at him like he thought Harry was mad. Harry didn’t blame him. He was beginning to think the same thing.

“I’m just opening a door, Ron. It’s no big deal.” He turned back to the stall door, staring it down like it was a puzzle.

“But-”

Harry looked amused when he turned his head again. “If I don’t make it to lunch, sound the alarm, yeah?” Ron frowned at him, but then shook his head and left, murmuring under his breath. Seconds later, Hermione stuck her head in.

“Harry, are you alright?”

“I’m fine, ‘Mione,” Harry answered, still looking at the stall door.

Hermione took note of the other two in the room and then walked straight in, looking behind her just in case anyone else would have seen her enter. “Ron’s stormed off. Mind telling me why?”

Harry gestured to the stall in front of him. “He doesn’t want me to open this door.” He cocked his head in wonder. His training with Snape was paying off; the Potions Master had been teaching him about sensing spells. Curse breakers used the ability when deciphering how to break spells apart. The intent and power behind a spell was usually the most important, they spelled out exactly how to approach a curse, spell, or hex and where to start in dissecting it. It surprised Harry how much he’d learned from the man in just under three months. It wasn’t a wonder Dumbledore had assigned him as the Defence teacher, he was obviously qualified. Shaking his head, he focused his surprise on the spell facing him. It looked really strong. _How did Malfoy managed that?_

Hermione glanced at the door and grew curious about how Harry stared at it. “And what’s behind the door?” she asked.

Harry finally turned to her and gave her a wry chuckle. “Would you believe me if I told you it was Malfoy?”

Her eyes narrowed in amusement. She tightened her arms around her books, the ones that couldn’t fit into her bag, hugging them to her chest. “With your history so far this term, yes.”

He shrugged. He knew they didn’t believe him when he said Malfoy was up to something. He'd become accustomed to it by now. “He’s locked himself in. Even his comrades over here can’t get him out. They asked for help.” They both glanced at Zabini as he began to protest, but a slap to the sternum from Parkinson shut him up. He glared at them instead.

Hermione eyed the two Slytherins before her. Zabini had his arms crossed over his chest now. He leaned against a sink and looked for the world like he didn’t want to be there. Parkinson looked torn between her concern and trying to hide it as well as Zabini.

“Want some help?” she asked finally, making up her mind. She turned to drop her bag on the floor and propped her leftover books on the nearest sink. Ron was probably in the Dining Hall already anyway. She could always get Harry to grab something for her in the kitchens. The house elves loved him.

Blaise was almost impressed. Almost. It was slow going, but the two Gryffindors finally got through with a _Recludo_. It took both Potter and Granger to make the spell strong enough. He hadn’t known Draco was capable of spells so strong. Pansy pushed past him and opened the door, her facade falling as fast as Blaise’s when she called for him. On the other side of the door, Draco was passed out on the floor. His hair covered most of his face, but from the gut churning scent of vomit wafting over to him, Blaise understood what he would have been doing down there. He was sorry Potter had to see Draco this way, it was for this precise reason he didn’t want Potter’s help in the first place. They could have got Snape, or even – since they were so desperate – Dumbledore. Blaise and Pansy had their hands full now, trying to wake Draco up, while also trying not to touch him too much. Potter cocked his head at them.

“You’re going to have to take him to the Hospital Wing,” he said as Granger passed him to go and wait by the door. “Not even he will be able to get out of another class without a proper excuse. Ask Snape, he should help you.” He picked up his bag and followed Granger. She held open the door for him to pass through.

“Great. How the hell are we supposed to do that without anyone seeing us?” Blaise asked Pansy as their ‘saviours’ walked out.

Pansy shook her head, but knew she had to get help of some sort. If she ran, she might be able to get their Head of House. “Stay with them, and I’ll go get Professor Snape,” she replied as the door shut and stood up. “If anyone comes, just lock the door, I’ll knock three times so you know it’s me.” Pansy was out the door seconds after Potter and Granger, idly noticing that he was watching her as she ran. She slowed down, hearing Potter call her out. She turned to see Potter with his arm on Granger. He’d obviously stopped their progress to lunch, a puzzled expression on his face. Within moments he was by her side, she hadn’t really got far when she took off down the corridor to the dungeons. “ _What_ , Potter?” she asked harshly. She was flustered, he could tell, and he could probably understand why that was.

He had a confused look on his face, but he seemed determined. “Them?” he said.

She frowned. _What the hell?_ “What?”

His gaze was searching, like he was scrutinizing her expression and her tone. However, she was genuinely confused and she wasn’t trying to hide anything. Yet. He, apparently, deemed her innocent because he explained. “You asked Zabini to stay with ‘them’.”

Fuck. _Did I say that?_ she thought in a panic. She obviously hadn’t got over the anxiety of seeing Draco the way she did because that mask Blaise was so good at using was completely absent as her face paled and her eyes widened. “You must be hearing things,” she tried anyway.

Those green eyes narrowed, once again scrutinizing her expression. Pansy cursed. Draco had a lot to answer for. It seemed in the six years they’d been at school and Draco had been around to argue with Potter, the Gryffindor had taken note of how Slytherins answered questions. He’d realised, through Draco, they answered direct questions with vague statements to be taken at will and used specific insults that would make people angry enough to walk away. He’d noticed that to figure out the true answer, he had to search for changes in expression, tone and stance. Shit. Draco had _trained_ him. “Yeah, I must be seeing things too, since you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Her hands flew to her face. She was _blushing._ She had to pull herself together. “No, I haven’t. I’m just worried about Draco.”

His head cocked to the side. “Funny,” he said and took her arm. He began pulling her back towards the bathroom. “You look more worried about being _caught_.”

“Harry.” The Gryffindor looked up at Granger. She was standing next to the bathroom door. “It’s almost time for Charms.”

He nodded and paused at the door, letting Pansy go. “Tell Flitwick I’m going to be late,” he called out. “I left my book upstairs, or something.” He opened the door.

“You want me to lie?” That made him pause. He let go of the door and turned back to his housemate.

“I am _asking_ you to lie. You don’t have to.” She nodded, though she looked apprehensive about it.

“Hurry,” she said and turned to leave.

He smiled and nodded at her. “I’ll try.”

Granger left, looking over her shoulder every so often until Potter finally disappeared into the bathroom again. Pansy had no choice but to follow him back in.

“Oh, what the fuck?” was what greeted Pansy as she walked back into the bathroom. Blaise obviously hadn’t locked the door yet, which was a shame. “That is not Professor Snape, Pansy.”

Potter ignored him. “Dobby.”

The frown that creased Blaise’s forehead smoothened as a small house elf appeared beside him. Blaise watched it in vague recognition. Pansy gave him a little bit of time, it would come to him eventually. What she wanted to know was how Potter knew him. Better yet, what the hell was it doing _here_? The small creature took one look around and gasped at the sight that met him. “Young Master Draco! What is happening to him, Harry Potter?” Large green eyes stared up at Potter plaintively. The Gryffindor swallowed and Pansy stared curiously. It was as if he wasn’t used to that kind of look from Dobby. She remembered him from her earlier days at Malfoy Manor. The elf was always rather autonomous. He never had to be told to do anything. It went to the point that if he ever did anything wrong he would just punish himself for it and continue his work. Draco had always liked him. In their second year, she remembered Draco telling her his father had set Dobby free to punish him for lagging behind in his schoolwork. He’d been upset, of course, but he’d got over it eventually. She wondered if Draco knew the house elf was here.

Potter cleared his throat and said, “Dobby, I need to get him to the Hospital Wing. Can you get me my special cloak in my trunk?” _Special cloak?_ Pansy thought and glanced at Blaise to find he was staring right back at her. He shrugged. Perhaps Potter was as loopy as people said.

Dobby shook his head. “Young Master Draco be needing help now, Harry Potter. Dobby can be taking him.” The house elf was already moving to position his small hands around Draco’s shoulders.

Potter’s eyebrows rose. “You can take people with you when you leave a room?” The two Slytherins decided not to show their surprise, sharing a look instead, though this came as news to them too.

Dobby paused and looked up at him. His head nodded furiously, his ears flapping up and down as he did so. “A house elf be equipped with many things to take care for families they belongs to.” He walked up to Draco and, once again, moved to put his hand on his shoulder and waist. They all jumped when Dobby reared back as if he’d been burned.

Once his heart stopped skipping beats, Potter leaned forward. “What, Dobby?” he asked the elf, who was staring at Draco with a distracted air.

“There is something inside Young Master Draco. Something not meant to be there.” Blaise and Pansy shared a knowing glance as a look of resolve took over Dobby’s face. “Dobby be taking him to Madam Pomfrey now.” In the blink of an eye the pair was gone.

Pansy straightened her back as Potter looked up at the two remaining Slytherins in the bathroom. “You want to try again with your explanation, Parkinson?”

Harry studied the remainder of the Slytherin trio. If he didn’t know better he could have sworn they were fidgeting. Both of them hovered over Madam Pomfrey, who had taken one look at them and told them to stand back, that ‘Draco’ was going to be fine.

 _Poppy’s on a first name basis with Malfoy? He was only here for a week._ Harry felt a turn in his stomach. Whatever was wrong with him had to be serious. Poppy only got on a first name basis for long term patients or as a supplement for really bad news. Harry, for the life of him, couldn’t figure this out. When he’d asked the pair in the bathroom, all they’d done was pick up their bags and leave, heading straight for the Infirmary. As he followed them, Harry thought back to two days ago. Malfoy had been cornered by Snape and he’d been told something that had left Malfoy looking really ill. He’d practically run out of the hall and Snape had sent the other two running like sentries.

“He’s pregnant.”

Harry looked up at Blaise Zabini. Parkinson hit the boy on the arm and he ignored it, staring straight at Harry and waiting for his reaction.

Silence. Harry stared at the pair of them. They were standing in the waiting room now, but Harry could still see the partition around Malfoy’s bed. What the hell did he say to that? Was that even possible in the Wizarding World? Harry rubbed the back of his head and then gave it a scratch for good measure. He supposed, in the Wizarding World, anything was possible. He’d seen whole buildings disappear and reappear in seconds and men turning into animals. Hell, he’d held a conversation with a giant spider.

_But male pregnancy?_

Sighing, he wished Hermione was there. This was the kind of knowledge that she’d have on hand. He’d know how to react then. Without concrete proof, Harry answered the only way news like that could be answered. He laughed.

Problem was, Neither Zabini, nor Parkinson was laughing and Poppy was eyeing him in such a way that he felt he should stop. He lapsed back into silence. “You’re serious?” Zabini nodded in time with Parkinson and Harry’s gaze split between the two of them. “How did he manage that?” he asked. He decided to be curious, but to still take the ‘news’ with a pinch of salt.

Straight to the point, as always, Zabini answered succinctly with, “Potion.”

Harry frowned and took a step back. “Why would he take... no, you know what?” he added stepping back once and raising his hands. “I don’t need to know.” He was shaking his head. Maybe it was a pureblood thing. He’d have to ask Ron. First thing he had to do was get out of there before anymore odd information came his way. “You guys...” he trailed and picked up his bag. “Yeah,” he added, answering a non existing question. “Okay, this has nothing to do with me. I’ll see you around.” He was still shaking his head at the situation Malfoy had put himself in and began his trek to the exit. He kept his gaze on the floor, following the pattern there as he walked.

“It’s yours.”

Harry stopped. Funny, he’d never noticed the hardwood floor was patterned before. The criss-cross design made his eyes blur even as the words Zabini had called out to him finally sank in. There it was; the big fat _heaping_ pinch of salt. “Excuse you?” he said turning around with an incredulous expression.

“The baby he’s having-”

“I’m not gay,” Harry said immediately. “And, though I’m not at my best drunk, I’m pretty sure I’d remember something like that.”

Pansy cocked her head. “Why drunk?”

Harry let out a short sharp bark of laughter. “Well, I’d have to be to consider sleeping with him,” he said gesturing to the prone figure on the cot.

Blaise laughed. “A lot of people would disagree with that statement.”

Harry stopped laughing. “I’m not one of ‘em.” He gave a single wave. “I’ll see you around.” He couldn’t believe he’d actually followed them into this trap. Never again. Merlin, if they wanted him to butt out, all they had to do was say. He might not have listened, but at least he would have tried to curb his curiosity a little. Jeez.

“So, to clarify, you don’t care,” he heard.

Harry nearly dropped his bag as he turned back one more time. “Look,” he began agitated. “I get it. It’s not my business. Whatever cock and bull story you’ve conjured to explain this, save it because, no, I don’t.” He swung the strap of his bag back over his shoulder. “I was curious before. Now I ‘know’,” he said mockingly with air quotes, “curiosity is gone, okay? I won’t bother you again. I don’t need to know any more of...this,” he ended with his hand gesturing to the imaginary mess they’d spread in front of him. With one final wave, he finally left, letting the door swing shut on its own.

Harry dragged himself up to the Gryffindor common room after his training session with the aurors. He dropped off his things in the dorm and came back down to unwind a bit before attempting his homework for tomorrow. He sat staring at the fire across from the couches and wondered at what he’d witnessed three days ago. Malfoy had flat out collapsed in the boy’s bathroom. That was worrying in itself. If he was trying to prove himself to Voldemort, that might not be the best way to go about it. It didn’t make sense. _Is he making himself sick with what he’s doing?_

 _Potion_ , came Zabini’s voice unbidden in his head.

Harry bit his lip and sighed. He shook his head. The thing is, if they’d stopped at ‘Malfoy’s pregnant,’ he might have just believed it. He threw his head back to stare at the ceiling. This was no good. It was all he’d had on his mind lately. It even affected his training. And, since he wasn’t paying attention, he’d been hit four times with different spells and curses. They stung and burned badly, but the pain still wasn’t enough to make him pay attention and, as he was learning, he was useless distracted. He bit into his lip in thought and lowered his head to stare back into the fire. What was funny – and a little bit sad at the same time – was that he didn’t even know for sure if male pregnancy was even possible. He was an idiot for even paying any kind of attention to this mind game the Slytherins were playing.

“You look like you’re turning some cogs.” The couch dipped beside him and he turned to see Hermione staring at him curiously. He smiled a little and turned back to the fire.

“Just thinking.”

“Ooh, dangerous past time.”

He chuckled at the Disney reference. “I know,” he completed. He frowned and turned back to his best friend. She watched him neutrally and smiled. _Huh_. He _had_ wished Hermione was there earlier. “’Mione?”

She smiled some more, knowingly this time. “Hmm?” she said turning on the couch to face him, realising he was finally ready to talk.

He shook his head again, he had to stop being so predictable. “If I told you I knew someone was pregnant, a male someone, what would you say?”

Her pensive and thoughtful look was present in full force. He found it funny, despite the seriousness of the situation. She was trying to work out where he’d got that from, who it could apply to and if Harry was involved, all at the same time. _Heh,_ he thought. _I’m not the only predictable one._

“What?” she said finally.

It seemed the question was a bit too much, even for her. He elaborated. “Malfoy’s pregnant,” he said quietly.

Her eyebrows rose to her hairline. “Says who?” she said in surprise, obviously remembering the state of the boy from earlier.

“Says Zabini and Parkinson. I went with them to the Infirmary.”

She leaned forward conspiratorially. “Did Madam Pomfrey confirm it?” she asked in a hushed whisper.

He shook his head. “Not really, but she didn’t deny it.” She also wasn’t in range to hear what they’d said, so that was something to factor in. “She’s on a first name basis with him, though.” Hermione was still staring at him. If he wasn’t so desperate for an answer, he would find it funny. This would answer a few questions he had, if it was true. “So, is it possible?”

“Of course it’s not possible,” she said immediately, as if he was a fool for even contemplating the possibility.

“What’s not possible?” Harry and Hermione looked up at Ron, who cornered Harry’s other side, turning his back to the arm of the couch and stretching out his giant legs to rest on Harry’s knees.

Hermione chuckled. “The Slytherins told Harry that Malfoy is pregnant.”

“No way,” Ron said with a scandalous smile, which made Harry smile in return. “Whose is it?” he said turning to Harry.

Harry frowned. He hadn’t thought of asking Ron. Hermione, being the expert she was at most subjects, did lack somewhat in true Pureblood folklore. If he wanted to know any back-alley stories, Ron was the one to ask. “They’re saying it’s mine,” he said. He heard Hermione gasp from his other side. _Oops, I didn’t tell her that, did I?_ He cringed and hissed at the slap he got on the arm. He turned to her. “Sorry,” he mouthed.

Ron cocked his head to the side. “You’re gay?” he asked curiously.

“What?” He nearly got whiplash at the speed he turned back to Ron. “No, Ron, I’m not.” Perhaps Ron was not the one to ask after all.

Ron frowned, looking away to the floor in thought. “Then how did you get him pregnant?” he asked, as if Harry was the one not making any sense.

Harry gave a half-hearted chuckle. “You’re talking as if it’s possible.” He gestured to their other best friend. “Hermione just said it isn’t.”

Ron rolled his eyes and, on his other side, Harry could hear Hermione’s indignant gasp. “Hermione hasn’t been in the Wizarding World since birth and heard all the back-road stories since she was a toddler.” He shook his head at Harry. “Honestly, Harry. Hermione doesn’t know everything.”

“It’s not possible, Ron,” Hermione said through gritted teeth. Harry nearly shrank away at the look in her eyes.

Ron bent one of his long legs and got more comfortable on the couch, still sitting sideways to face them both. “It _is_ possible Hermione.” He looked around trying to spot a familiar Irishman. “Finnigan!” He called. Harry turned on the couch to find Seamus. The Gryffindor looked up at his name being called and set his sights on Ron, who was waving. “Oi! Seamus, come ‘ere a sec.”

Seamus Finnigan walked over to their spot on the common room couch in front of the fire and leaned over the back of it, ruffling Harry’s hair in mirth. Harry grinned at him. “Yeah?” he turned to Ron, smiling.

“Peter, your cousin from your mum’s brother, how old is he?” Ron asked him and Seamus watched him as if that were an odd question.

He cocked his head to the side. “Thirty-four, why?” he asked with a smile. Harry thought it a logical question. He’d like to know what this Peter had to do with this too.

Ron, nevertheless, continued. “And your uncle, he’s gay, right?”

This time, Seamus cocked an eyebrow and looked down at Harry, who’d rested his head back to look up at Seamus. “...Yeah,” he answered suspiciously.

This time, Ron stared straight at Hermione. “And who carried Peter to term?” he asked. Harry turned his head on the couch to stare at Ron in wonder. He couldn’t be suggesting what Harry thought he was suggesting. He turned back to Seamus. He had to hear the answer to this.

“Uncle Terry,” Seamus said obviously, as if that were the daftest question of all. “Why are you asking this?” he finally gave in and asked.

“Hermione doesn’t believe men can get pregnant,” Ron answered him cockily, not taking his eyes off the girl. Harry did understand, it wasn’t often he got the best of her. He just wished Ron wouldn’t make her turn that shade of red. Harry sighed. He’d be doing his own homework tonight.

Seamus lost his suspicious look. “Oh. Well, yeah there are a number of ways, I guess,” he said turning to Hermione, as if she was the one requesting the information. “But they’re kinda dangerous and it doesn’t really guarantee that you’ll end up with a baby in the end. Uncle Terry took a potion to grow a womb of sorts, because it was the simplest way out of all the potions out there.” He made a face. “Kinda grosses me out a bit to tell the truth,” he said shrugging. “But they were in love and wanted something the two of them could share. My mum said she was constantly around them to break up fights because Uncle Terry was driving Uncle Malachi barmy with his mood swings. Ma was the only one equipped to withstand the terror, since she grew up with him and all.” Seamus shut up and finally caught on to what was going on. He eyed Ron and Harry. “Are one of you two pregnant? Congrats!” he said with a beaming smile.

Ron shook his head, still high on his win against Hermione. “Nah Seamus, we just wanted to prove a point to Hermione.” Hermione rolled her eyes.

Seamus seemed disappointed. “Oh. Well, yeah, that’s about it. There aren’t that many accounts, as gay couples tend to go the surrogate or adoption route. You know, since the potions are so risky.” He turned to Hermione again. “I can contact my uncle if you want to get some reading material, ‘Mione. I know you can’t stand to not know something.”

Hermione smiled at him. Her bad mood wasn’t his fault, after all. “That would be nice, Seamus, thank you.” Seamus walked away.

Ron slapped Harry on the thigh. “So, you knocked up Malfoy.”

Harry turned to him, rubbing his thigh that now stung with the rest of his body. “Shouldn’t you be more interested in the fact that he is actually knocked up?” He stared off. “He must have taken a potion to get that way.”

Ron looked pensive, that was a good point. “But why now? We’re only sixteen,” Ron said.

“Speak for yourself,” Hermione said. Harry rolled his eyes. “Since this is going in circles, I’m going to bed. I’ll see you both in the morning.” Harry and Ron waved a goodnight to her and sat back. Harry took her place and turned to rest his back against the arm of the sofa and face Ron. Ron stretched his legs out completely with a satisfied sigh.

“It’s not really that much of a surprise, mate,” Ron said watching Hermione walk up the stairs. “You’d be surprised the kinds of things purebloods do to have a child.” His eyes widened and he switched his gaze to Harry. “Oh, Merlin, did he slip you something?”

Harry shook his head. “No. Focus, Ron.”

Ron gave him an obvious look. “Why are you telling _me_ to focus? You’re the one who got Malfoy pregnant.”

“I didn’t get him pregnant,” Harry said looking around the common room to make sure no one was listening. He lowered his voice even more. “I haven’t even slept with him. I’m not even gay!” he added frustrated. Why did everybody seem to think that?

Ron leaned forward, his long frame allowing him to do so easily, and put his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Mate, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Charlie’s brought home his share of guys from Romania, as well as girls. You are who you are.” He shrugged and sat back. “I don’t care and if you’re worried about Mum and Dad, don’t be. They won’t care either. As a matter of fact, Mum was after Charlie’s last boyfriend Nikolas to become one of us officially.”

“Really?”

Ron nodded. “She was mental about it. Even started planning it. She was more heartbroken than Charlie when they broke it off.” He laughed. “Seriously though, I was only surprised you didn’t tell me _before_ you knocked someone up.” He grinned. “But,” he conceded, “upset as it makes me, I’m glad it’s not my sister. Then I’d have to kill you,” he said matter of factly, his gaze zeroing in across the common room. Harry knew without looking that Ron was staring at Ginny and Dean sitting on the love seat against the wall.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Well, that’s not even _slightly_ hypocrit... wait, no, I’m not gay, Ron.”

Ron nudged his leg. “Tell that to Malfoy,” he said with a grin and a brow wiggle.

Though Harry recognised Ron was just teasing him now, he still found it necessary to point out, “I didn’t have sex with Malfoy.”

Ron frowned, Harry sounded serious. “Then I’m officially confused.”

Harry chuckled hysterically and sat back against the sofa arm. “Join the club.”

Ron opened his mouth to say something, then thought again and tried something else. “So, why do they think _you_ got him pregnant?”

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know. I originally thought it was just some stupid thing Zabini said to stop me from asking questions.”

Ron harrumphed and looked down to his hands. “Maybe it is.” He looked up. “I told you to stay away from that bathroom.” He heaved a heavy sigh and stood up. “Well, I’m going to bed.” He looked down at Harry and gave him a lascivious grin. “Try not to watch me sleep. I’m irresistible, but you have to restrain yourself, Harry, for the greater good. Think of your future child.” His hand went to his chest as he spoke.

“I’m not gay, Ron,” Harry repeated with fake cheer.

“Okay, Harry,” Ron said in kind and wiggled his fingers as a goodbye.

Harry rolled his eyes and threw a cushion at his best friend who was laughing as he walked up the stairs. Harry stared at the fire. It made the room warm, much like the one in the Hospital Wing. Malfoy was lying there unconscious now, he knew. He didn’t buy the story Parkinson and Zabini fed him, even if Seamus could corroborate that male pregnancy was possible. He wasn’t stupid enough to simply believe them. He wasn’t that naive. However, there was something nagging at his mind. When Dobby turned up, he’d said that there was something _inside_ Malfoy that was not supposed to be there. House elves didn’t over exaggerate, did they? And Dobby had seemed genuinely worried about Malfoy, all pale and passed out on the ground. From the smell, the blond had been vomiting in the bathroom.

 _Morning sickness_?

“Don’t be stupid, Harry.” He was obviously tired if Zabini’s ridiculous story was taking root in his mind. He needed sleep. That essay was pretty much done. If he woke up early, he would be able to scribble out a conclusion during breakfast. Maybe Hermione would have cooled down enough to take pity on him. He stood up and walked upstairs, determined to get a good night’s sleep.

For the rest of the week, Harry spent most of his time blissfully unaware of Malfoy’s presence. He hardly paid attention to the blond because, in the majority of classes they shared, he was either asleep (History of Magic), or too busy to care (Potions). That left Transfiguration and Charms, but he _had_ to concentrate there or he’d get seriously hurt. His weekend was spent in Hogsmeade and in his common room, where there was definitely no Malfoy or any other Slytherins intent on turning his world upside down. He thanked Merlin Monday Potions classes were theory classes, which meant no pairing up to make anything. The class had been wonderfully absent of any chaos, save Slughorn trying to give away restricted potions as a reward for competing against each other. He was very glad their teacher wasn’t Snape. It seemed his demeanour in Defence was even worse than it had ever been before. He hated to think what he would have been like at his home base. Defence was tomorrow, though, so he was free until then, plus he still had to meet with the man tomorrow night for his training sessions. He was tired of being exhausted and angry.

Perhaps he could take up yoga?

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t even take note of the fact that he’d bumped into someone until he heard, “Watch where you’re going, Potter.” As soon as the voice registered in his brain, the part of him that was tired of being angry disappeared and an instant feeling of agitation swept upon him so fast that he had to hold onto the wall.

“Christ, Malfoy. Grow up.”

Draco sneered at him. “Merlin. If it’s not bad enough I’m... urgh.” He turned away.

Harry frowned at him. “What was that?”

Draco was about to let him know exactly what it was, when Zabini nudged him. “He didn’t believe us, remember?”

The blond nodded, eyeing Harry speculatively. “Right. Later, Potter.”

“What?” Harry said. He was a little surprised Malfoy was just letting it go.

Malfoy shook his head. “Nothing. I can’t afford to fight with you anymore. What, with my _condition_ and all.” He pointed at his abdomen and grinned.

Harry rolled his eyes. As if that was meant to convince him. “Whatever. You were always an attention seeker. I’m surprised you haven’t grown out of it by now.”

Malfoy smirked at him. “Pot-ter meet kettle.”

Harry narrowed his eyes and pulled his wand. On reflex, Draco did the same. “Don’t test me, Malfoy.”

The blond snickered and his grey eyes narrowed. “Wouldn’t dream of it. You’d fail.”

Harry found his restraint phenomenal, even if he did say so himself. “Oh my God, you’re such a fucking-” He cut himself off, before he said something he’d regret.

“Heartthrob?” Draco said grinning.

Harry shook his head. “Waste of time,” he said simply and turned, walking off.

Draco watched Harry walk away and the grin disappeared. Deep inside, he felt something snap. A hex was out of his mouth before his mind even caught up.

Harry never would have admitted it, but Snape was actually good for something. Around him, there was a change in temperature. All the practice he’d done with Ron and Hermione had him tuned into the change without consciously wishing for it anymore. If it wasn’t for Snape, he wouldn’t have been able to identify the feeling was that of a hex. It was odd. He couldn’t only feel the hex, but the intent behind it. Malfoy really wasn’t happy with him. With a reflex of his own, he cast a protection field and a reflecting spell. The hex rebounded and hit Malfoy in the chest. He turned, surprised to see Malfoy being forced to the ground. _Definitely looking forward to training tomorrow._ He couldn’t wait to rub it in the bastard’s face that he’d hurt his precious star pupil.

“That looks painful,” he commented as Draco slid a couple feet after he hit the floor.

“Are you fucking insane?” Zabini exclaimed. He took out his own wand as Pansy flew to Draco’s side. Harry frowned. It was just a stinging hex. Albeit a painful one, but Malfoy had started it _and_ done it when Harry turned his back on him. Talk about cowardice. “He’s pregnant!”

Harry rolled his eyes. Parkinson was still on the floor, shaking Draco rapidly. He wasn’t responding. Zabini turned away from Harry, disgusted. “He won’t answer me, Blaise!”

“Pomfrey warned us about this. Come on, we’ve got to get him to the Hospital Wing.”

Harry chuckled. “Yeah, right. Take him to the Hospital Wing and you’ve got to admit to doing magic in the corridor.” He crossed his arms.

They weren’t listening to him. “Pans, a lightening spell if you will. I don’t think I can concentrate enough to levitate him all the way there,” Zabini said, ignoring him. Harry’s eyebrows furrowed as Parkinson took out her wand and cast the lightening spell immediately. The Slytherin then gave her Draco’s bag and picked Draco up easily. He hurriedly stood and walked towards the stairs. “You’re fucking disgusting,” he said to Harry as he passed him. Parkinson gave him a passing glare too.

Harry turned to watch them walking towards the main staircase to take them downstairs. “What the hell just happened?” he said to himself. Their reaction seemed a little too serious for a simple duel using spells a first year would be ashamed to bring to the table. He followed the group at a distance, convinced that if they were going to the dungeons, he’d have to give them an Oscar, or something. Not that they’d even know what it was. He pulled up short when they walked seamlessly towards the Hospital Wing, disregarding all the stares from other students. Parkinson ran ahead and opened one of the massive oak doors and Zabini walked in immediately, like he was following a routine. Harry turned around and put his back to the wall, his forehead creased in a frown of thought. _What the hell?_

Snape stormed into the Hospital Wing like a dark avenging angel of death. He was followed by Dumbledore, who walked at a more sedate pace. They’d both been called to the Infirmary after hearing of Draco being hit with a hex in the corridor. He took one look at Draco lying in a cot, _again_ , and wanted to break something. “What has happened now?” Blaise stepped forward, as always. Snape wanted to roll his eyes. The boy seemed to be Draco’s spokesperson. “Yes, Mr Zabini?”

“Potter attacked him,” he said simply.

A thin, red veil clouded Snape’s eyesight. For a second, he couldn’t even hear anything. That is, until Draco’s voice registered. “What did you say?” He said and sat in the only available chair next to the Infirmary cot Draco lay on.

“I said that’s not exactly true.”

“Draco-”

“Quiet, Pansy.” The blond looked first at Dumbledore before settling his gaze on his Head of House. “I cast first.”

“Oh my.” Snape gave Dumbledore a dirty look. That was the best reaction he had? “And he retaliated?” Snape narrowed his eyes. _Oh you’d just love that, wouldn’t you?_

Draco stared ahead, his brow furrowing. He could still see Potter turning around with his wand in hand and a spell on his lips. “Actually, he... reflected it,” he said shaking his head in confusion. He looked up at Snape. “I’ve never seen anyone react so fast.” If he wasn’t so upset, he’d be impressed.

Dumbledore set a rather satisfied smile on Severus that the Potions Master wanted to wipe off permanently. Looked like the training he’d set the Gryffindor was actually being practiced. “Nonetheless, disciplinary measures will have to be taken,” he said eyeing the Headmaster distastefully. “Despite Mr Malfoy’s condition, there is no magic in the corridors for a reason.” He then glanced at Draco. “That goes for both of you, I’m afraid.”

Draco lowered his head to the cot. “Yes sir.” Snape stood from his seat next to him.

“Professor Snape, before you go,” Draco began as Snape rose. “I contacted my father, asking if I could speak with him personally. He informed me he could be here the day after tomorrow. I wondered if I could use your office to speak with him?” he tried to keep his face straight and empty of anxiety, but he was sure he failed, especially when Snape rolled his eyes.

“Fine. I’ll give you an hour. No more. I do have a job to do.”

Draco nodded in acceptance. “Thank you, sir.”

“Mr Malfoy.” Draco turned to Professor Dumbledore. “It was very brave of you to come forward like this. I see your condition is... growing on you. In more than one way.” He smiled at his own joke, but all Draco could do was turn pink with embarrassment. “I may need to inform Harry of your condition. In case he tries to retaliate. With your permission, of course.”

Draco swallowed. “He already knows.”

Snape’s eyebrows rose and then fell in quick succession. “You told him?” He knew it sounded odd to the man. To him, Potter had nothing to do with this.

“ _I_ didn’t,” he said snidely and turned a stink eye on Blaise and Pansy. Pansy flushed and looked away. Blaise looked indignant.

The dark skinned boy raised his hands in surrender. “In my defence, he didn’t believe me.” He gestured to Draco. “Case in point.”

Snape shook his head in stunned confusion. “But why?” The three knew he wasn’t asking why Potter didn’t believe them. That much was obvious.

Panic bled into Blaise’s expression. It only served to confuse the man more. A small gasp from Dumbledore had him turning to the old man. Albus had gone a little pale, his gaze shifting among the three students in the room. He was stunned speechless. Shock. _What?_ Then it hit him. _Occlumens_. His own expression turned curious on the three youths. What had the old man seen?

Both Blaise and Pansy were looking at Draco, determined now not to talk unless he said it was okay. He rolled his eyes. Teenagers and secrets, it was ridiculous. “Is anyone going to explain, or do I have to resort to _other_ methods?” he added, looking at his employer, another dirty look radiating from his eyes. Dumbledore had the grace to look ashamed of prying. Snape supposed it was second nature to the man by now, so he let it go. He was sure he was one of the only people Albus had to actually ask what he was thinking about. To have him gasp... Snape could only imagine what Potter had to do with all of this. Short of being...

His eyes closed in foreboding. “No...” It was a hushed statement. He was absolutely petrified to say it allowed.

Draco nodded. “Yeah...” he said in kind.

The implications of that simple response were endless. What did this mean? What _could_ this mean? What if _He_ found out? “Merlin...” his voice trailed. When Snape finally opened his eyes and turned to Dumbledore, he didn’t know what to say when his ominous look was reflected in blue crystalline eyes.

Harry sat heavily in his chair, stunned. Words wouldn’t come out of his mouth. He was tired, confused... _totally fucking confused._

Ron looked up from the essay he was writing to see Harry sitting next to him. “Hey. Where were you?” he asked and went back to his textbook. Hermione had refused to lend him her essay this time, as payback for his little victory last week, and it was due tomorrow so he had to buckle down and do it for himself. He was almost done, actually. And it was only nine o’clock. He was kind of proud of himself.

“This joke has gone too far,” Harry said to himself.

“What?” Ron said frowning and looked back up at his best friend. His frown became deeper. Harry looked exhausted and very confused.

Harry turned to him and then turned away, his gaze staying on the fire in the fireplace. “Dumbledore is in on it,” was all he said, which didn’t help Ron in the slightest.

“On what, a joke?” When he got no response, he waved a hand in front of Harry’s face and sat back when he got no reaction. “Harry, where’ve you been all evening?” he asked actually beginning to get worried.

“Detention. Hospital Wing.”

 _Oh. Was that all?_ Ron turned back to his essay. “Detention in the Hospital Wing? That’s odd. Did you do something to Pomfrey?” he said finishing off his last paragraph and beginning his conclusion.

He took note of Harry shaking his head out the corner of his eye. “Baby.”

Now Ron was seriously confused. “Baby?” he said and paused to look around and make sure the remaining students in the common room weren’t listening to their odd conversation. “What baby?” No answer. Ron huffed and sat back again staring at the brunet. _Baby?_ The only time they’d had a conversation about a baby was last week when Harry had mentioned something about Malfoy being... He gasped and nudged Harry hard. “You said you didn’t!” he exclaimed scandalised.

Harry turned to him, jarred out of his thoughts. He caught on quick. “I didn’t!”

Ron gave him a confused look again. “Then-”

“I don’t know, Ron!” he said exasperated. “But it wasn’t me!” Harry looked angry and Ron left it alone for a moment. When it became evident he would get no further comments, his eyes ran over his essay again. Finding a mistake, he leaned forward, corrected it and read through it again. As he rounded off his conclusion, he sat back and turned to Harry, who was in the same position as when he’d left him. He sighed.

“If he is pregnant and if it is yours, what are you going to do?” he asked, blowing on the ink to dry it.

Harry, again jarred out of his thoughts, scoffed. “I’m not going to do _anything_. For all I know, he’s lying.” He shook his head and lifted his book bag up onto the table. He took out the essay for Transfiguration he still had to finish. Hermione had made him start it early last week. Thank Merlin, or he’d have to start from scratch tonight. He pulled out a quill and stole a bit of Ron’s ink. “They’re going to do a test tomorrow morning. The Headmaster says it’s to make sure the ‘baby’ is fine because of our fight this afternoon.” He rolled his eyes.

Ron looked up from the essay he was now officially done with. “You had a _fight_? Is he hurt?” There was a look of genuine worry there that made Harry pause.

Harry frowned, not quite able to believe what he’d just heard. He’d had far too many surprises for the night. “Is he _hurt_?” Harry put down his quill, his assignment momentarily forgotten. “Wait – am I hearing things? Who the hell are you?” He stared incredulously at his friend.

Ron turned toward him, anger creeping into his expression. “No, Harry, I’m serious. Is he hurt?” Harry was shaking his head in disbelief, his mouth stuck on the W in ‘What the fuck?’. “Harry, think.” Harry’s eyebrows rose to his hairline. _Ron_ was telling him to ‘think’? “There are options here. First,” he began, counting off options on his fingers, “this was an accident, in which case you are having a child that you cared enough to create.” Before Harry could once again deny he’d done anything with Malfoy besides beat him, Ron put up his hand to forestall him. “Two, it was brought upon by some unknown force, in which case the kid is still half of your blood and probably the only blood relation you’re going to have, if you are gay.” He once again put up his hand before Harry could protest that too. “Or three – and I’m stretching here, because it could be a possibility.

“That child was made on purpose by You-Know-Who because, let’s face it, you are powerful, even if you can’t channel it yet,” he said repeating what Moody had said to Harry in the first training session he’d seen two months ago in September. “Malfoy is a pureblood and his blood status, age and nearness to you is probably why he would have been nominated – if he was even made aware of it to begin with.” He cocked his head, working it out in his mind. Harry had seen that face before. It was the one he used when playing chess and weighing all the odds of a move before he touched the board. “In that case, you’re leaving your own flesh and blood to be used by the same madman that murdered your parents. And Merlin knows why he wants it.

“It could be used to kill you,” Ron added with shake of his head. “It could be used as leverage to trap you. Who knows?” He narrowed his eyes in wonder. “You really want that on your conscience?” He received no answer, short of Harry staring at a wall in thought. Huffing, frustrated, he rolled up his parchment and shoved it in his bag. He then started packing up and gave a snort of derision. Harry’s gaze snapped to him immediately, wondering at his actions. “I don’t have a problem with you and Hermione, like some pureblood families would, but, sometimes, you just – you don’t _get it_.” He shook his head, giving a frustrated gesture with his hands. “Malfoy could have got rid of that child, but in this world, in _our_ world-” He sighed as if he really didn’t want to say his next words. “-In _my_ world – children are rare and important.” He took in Harry’s hurt look and put down his books. “Harry, my family excluded, having children is difficult and especially so for purebloods like Malfoy, who value very little outside of their specialised inbred gene pool.” Ron continued to stare at him, trying to find an example to drive the point home. “Tell me you’ve noticed that most of them in Slytherin have no brothers or sisters.” Ron’s eyes looked plaintive. “You have no idea what kind of gift has been given to you, even if it has a catch.” He shoved his books in his bag. “Malfoy probably has. Right now, I’ll bet you Malfoy is both petrified and elated. He’s got his heir and, in pureblood families, that’s really the core to how they function. Way back when, my family would have been the same.” Harry remembered last year Sirius had shown him the Black Family tree. Ron was related to the Malfoy’s. He’d almost forgotten. His best friend swung his bag up onto his shoulder. “I’m going to bed, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Harry reached up to stop Ron from leaving. “Ron-”

He gently shrugged off Harry’s hand. “No, Harry. Right now I need to stay away from you.” He sighed. “We’re good, I just... please understand that and leave me alone for a while, yeah?”

Harry stared for a second and then nodded. Ron nodded once and then went upstairs, taking them two at a time, leaving Harry alone downstairs to think.

It was finally Wednesday after dinner, and Draco sat with his back straight in Snape’s personal study, staring at the man of which many people had stated, including his mother, that he was the carbon copy. Lucius Malfoy had taken a day off work to see him, and on one hand he was glad, on the other, not so much. His mouth was dry now and he was fiendishly hungry, even though he’d just had dinner. That was an odd sensation to be feeling at the time.

Lucius blinked once, twice, three times. “I’m sorry, you’re going to have to repeat that for me.” There was a stunned expression on his face. It was so out of place, Draco could have laughed if he wasn’t so nervous.

“Er...” Draco began again unintelligently.

“Not quite that far,” Lucius said, unwilling to go through the _entire_ speech again, ers, ums and ahs included. He sat back in his chair, relaxing for the first time since he got there. This was not what he’d been expecting when Draco wrote his letter asking to meet him. He’d been preparing himself for a ‘take me to your leader’ conversation, or an update on the ‘task’ the Dark Lord had given him and wasn’t entirely sure how he was going to handle it. On the one hand he was glad for the reprieve, on the other, not so much. He took up the box of chocolates Narcissa had sent their son and tore into it. A lot of people thought Draco got his sweet tooth from his mother.

They were wrong.

He’d bought the bloody thing anyway. He offered the box to his son, who gratefully took up two and put one whole into his mouth. Lucius cocked an eyebrow. He remembered Narcissa couldn’t stand the sight or smell of chocolate when she was pregnant. He was glad he wouldn’t have to hide them away again. That had been a torture he wasn’t happy to have to repeat. He sighed. _Good grief, my son is having a child_. His eyes fell to Draco’s abdomen.

“Well, it’s a lot earlier than I had planned to be become a grandfather, I suppose. Do you know what it is?” He frowned. “How far along are you?” If Draco hadn’t said anything, he would never have known.

Draco shook his head. “It’s November now, so about a month. It’s far too early.”

Hmm, well that was disappointing. “And... who is...?” he asked delicately, his blond brows arching. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know.

 _Oh, Merlin_. A deep roll in his stomach made him pale. He had no idea where to start in answering that million galleon question. “Er.”

Recognising the look and the language immediately, Lucius narrowed his eyes keenly. “I’ll take that to mean I won’t like the answer, shall I?” Draco opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He shook his head instead. Lucius actually smirked. He was just like his mother. “So, no talking.” He scrutinised Draco’s posture. “You seem even _more_ nervous than before, so I can only guess the other father must be someone you’re more than scared to mention.” He looked away in thought and Draco actually screwed his eyes shut.

His father was trying to guess? This was _mortifying_.

Lucius’ focus turned back on his son. “Since you can’t talk, but you can nod, how about I just ask yes or no questions?” Still unable to speak, Draco nodded. His eyes remained shut. Lucius took in his reaction and cocked an eyebrow. This was interesting. “It’s not a Hufflepuff, is it?” he asked first and got the desired reaction. Draco opened his eyes wide and opened his mouth with indignant rage.

“Are you insane?” When Lucius cocked his brow again in response, Draco went pink with embarrassment. “Sorry, Father.”

Instead of scolding him, as would have done any other time, Lucius’ curiosity got the better of him. “Well, that more than answers _that_ question.” He tapped his finger against the snake head of his cane. He mentally shrugged. He might as well go through the Houses while he was at it. “Not a Slytherin either, I suppose.” But that was a given. The stark white of Draco’s skin told him that. His son was terrified, not of him per se, but his reaction to the other boy’s identity.

Draco shut his eyes. This game may be over rather quickly. He shook his head. “If only,” he whispered to himself, but it was obvious his father heard it when he got a groan.

Lucius’ frame leaned to the side, his head dipping down to touch his chest. When he’d composed himself, he raised it again, but his facial expression screamed ‘Just say no.’ “It’s a Gryffindor, isn’t it?” Rolling his lips between his teeth, Draco nodded and looked away. “They always pair us with Gryffindors.”

A heavy sigh left his father and Draco finally turned his head back to him to be faced with a solemn stare. That expression had been used a few times against him in his life. The first that he could remember was the time he and Greg had been playing in the manor gardens and the bludger Greg hit ricocheted off an exterior wall. It hit one of his mother’s prized white peacocks, killing it instantly. He’d taken the blame, knowing his mother would ban both his friends and the game from being played on the grounds again. She still didn’t like Quidditch all that much. His father had accepted the excuses at face value, but when his mother had left, mourning one of her animals, he been faced with a stare that induced nothing but the guilt he’d managed to successfully hide. All it said was, ‘ _You lied, didn’t you?_ ’ and his pink cheeks and guilt-ridden eyes had said nothing but, ‘ _Yes, Father._ ’

Now, even without any words, he could read Lucius’ expression plain as text. ‘ _It’s Harry Potter’s, isn’t it?_ ’ it said. Feeling for the first time that his father deserved an answer, he nodded. “Yes.” He received a long drawn out intake of air, released as a sigh with an, “Oh dear,” thrown in the mix, just for fun.

Immediately, Draco began apologising. “I’m so sorry.” And he was. This kind of disappointment he’d hoped would be saved for being dragged home by aurors drunk one day, if he even lived that long after the war. He’d often thought of himself older, travelling the world and getting up to all sorts with his friends. He’d maybe break a few laws and get extradited home. He’d heard the exploits of his older cousins and always wanted to be like them. Free. He sighed. With a child on the way, that was out of the question.

“What on earth for?” Draco looked up, distracted from his inner monologue. “From what you’ve – vaguely – told me, this entire situation falls on Potter’s shoulders. I’m assuming he was the potions partner you conveniently forgot to mention.” He didn’t even wait for a response. “As far as I’m concerned, you have nothing to be sorry for, besides being too cocky to bring your own textbook to class.” Lucius picked up another chocolate, devouring it in seconds.

Draco almost couldn’t believe it. Like a free-spirited Blaise, this was a little too good to be true. “What about Mother?”

He received a cocked eyebrow once more. “What about her?” Was that mirth in his eyes? _He’s stretching this out on purpose?_ Even if Draco deserved it a little, it wasn’t funny.

“Will she... mind?” he asked, dreading the answer.

Lucius answered with a rather uncharacteristic snort. “Your mother is likely to put on a parade.” He eyed the white chocolate truffle sitting by its lonesome. That wouldn’t do. “She has always held out hope for you despite your extra-curricular activities,” he added with a smirk. “Grandchildren were becoming a dream to her if I remember her words correctly.”

“How-”

“We get letters, Draco,” Lucius said obviously. “A lot of them, from other families – mostly mothers – claiming you have broken their daughter’s hearts,” he answered with an eye roll, not missing a beat. He shook his head and turned to his son. Draco was biting his lip and Lucius chuckled. “You have nothing to fear with your mother on that count. Believe me.” He stood. “I should get home to tell her the news. The sooner I do, the sooner she can plan the party.” Draco finally let a smile surface and Lucius narrowed his eyes in appreciation. Finally. “You should invite our future son in law.” At the jaw that dropped, Lucius actually laughed, shaking his head in mirth. He decided to rescue the white chocolate truffle after all. He opened the door to Severus’ study and into the corridor of the teachers’ quarters. It was empty at this time of day.

Draco narrowed his eyes and Lucius was stunned by how much he looked like him. “That isn’t funny,” he said and picked up the remainder of his chocolates, following his father out the door.

He chuckled in reply. “I beg to differ.” They began to walk together in a companionable silence.

Draco smiled to himself, looking out into the small courtyard as he walked by a window. This hadn’t happened in a while. They used to walk all the time. It had stopped recently. He was glad for this, even if he’d had to get pregnant to get it. It was nice. “How is Mother?” he asked as they rounded a corner. It seemed his father hadn’t forgotten the layout of the castle, even after leaving it in the seventies.

Lucius smiled fondly. “She misses you,” he said as they began to descend the stairs. “Nearly six years and she still isn’t used to you being away at school.” He accompanied that with an eye roll.

Draco gave him a smile of his own. “You should give her some tips on how to get along.”

Lucius shook his head at his son. “Wouldn’t do much good. When I do, she’s taken it upon herself in the past to remind me of just how long it took me.” They’d reached the front steps of the school now.

Draco froze and spun to face his father. The thought of his father missing him was so far off the radar, he could honestly say he’d never thought of it being possible. “How long did it take you?” He simply received a look telling him to drop it after he asked. He knew enough of his father to obey that order. He still smiled though. They walked down the stairs, seeing a carriage waiting for Lucius to return to the edge of the wards.

Draco watched Lucius carefully as he got into a carriage. He did look a lot like him, though he most likely received his temperament from his mother. A sharp wind blew, casting some of his hair back over his shoulder. Curious. He usually pinned it back with a ribbon or something. He looked different when it was out. “I think I should cut my hair,” he mused aloud.

Lucius paused from stepping inside and turned to him. Naturally, his eyes roamed over his son’s head. The strands were a little longer than he was used to, but nothing too drastic. “Why?”

Draco fingered it. “It’s getting a little too long, don’t you think?”

Lucius cocked an eyebrow. “You’re asking me?” This was usually a discussion he saved for his mother.

Draco, nonetheless, shrugged. He was taking ample advantage of his father’s good mood. Naturally he wanted to see how long it would last. “You’re the expert.”

Finally, Lucius climbed into the carriage, saying, “Is this you talking, or Pansy Parkinson?” sarcastically.

Draco laughed. Pansy had more than once commented on the fact that his hair was getting as long as Lucius’. An over exaggeration, but he got the point. “It’s just me.”

Lucius settled himself. “Sometimes I don’t know if that girl wants to be your future wife, or your mother.”

Draco leaned against the carriage. “I already have a mother.” His eyes cast around the castle grounds he could see from where he stood. When they returned to his father, the laughter was still in his Lucius’ eyes. It was a wonder to Draco.

“Hmm... and soon you’ll have a husband,” the man said smirking.

Hmm, perhaps not. He remembered vaguely his father had a wicked sense of humour. It was fun, when it wasn’t directed at him. “Oh, Merlin, don’t even joke about that.” He watched his father as he laughed and smiled in reaction. It was official, this pregnancy was a blessing. It had been so long since he’d heard his father’s laugh. The Dark Lord had changed a lot of things in his family. He didn’t want to know the things his father did for Him. He would probably be sick if he found out and he’d had enough of throwing up for a lifetime. But he definitely still respected the man. He was his father after all. He’d done so much for him to make his life easier. Standing there, next to the open carriage door, he remembered a handful out of the lifetime of things his father had done for him. He remembered when he was really young, he’d got lost in the manor gardens. Thinking Lucius had forgotten him, his four year old self had decided, stubbornly, to go for a walk by himself, in January, without a cloak – figuring if his father didn’t care, neither did he. He’d got lost, and stayed where he was, frightened, until Lucius found him in the dark, alone next to a small pond, hours later. He’d never forget the look of profound relief on his father’s face when he found Draco shivering in the dark. He’d been so worried, he hadn’t even thought to ask the house elves to search for him. When the Medi-wizard from St Mungo’s had come to see him the next day he was told he had mild hypothermia. He was lucky he hadn’t died. Ever since then, whenever they scheduled a walk, his father always sent a note telling him if he was going to be late. Those walks stopped completely when he was eleven, though. He hadn’t seen that version of his father in _years_. He watched him as he fixed his clothes in the carriage. _Who knew he was still in there?_ His father had saved his life that night.

Speaking of. “Thank you, for what you did during summer.”

Lucius froze and looked up at his son. He was standing calmly, resting his head against the outside wall of the carriage. His family’s grey eyes stared right back at him. It looked as if he’d been staring for a while. “Pardon?” he asked, feeling a flush overtake his skin.

Draco smiled at him sadly. He hadn’t been sure, but now he was. His father wasn’t the only one who knew how to get a reaction. It was a shame the man felt he had to hide this. As far as Draco was concerned, it was nothing to be ashamed about. “I’ve been trying to remember...” He shook his head. “I was having tea with you, in your study-” which he should have found suspicious in the first place, since he never had _tea_ with his father “-and you were telling me about my task. Then I woke up in the cabin at Mont Blanc retreat.” It was a beautiful place. He only wished he didn’t have to be drugged to get there. His father really was a bit of a drama queen. He was glad he didn’t inherit any of _those_ genes. “I won’t be completing that task, I hope you can understand.” This was the other part of the conversation he was nervous about. Turning down The Dark Lord was a big deal, even more so for his father, who dealt with him on a regular basis. “Thank you,” he said again, making sure to maintain the eye contact he’d gained. His father was holding back, Draco knew, not sure whether to admit it or feign ignorance.

Lucius stared back. His son was grown up now, thinking for himself, starting a family. A little earlier than expected, but still, his boy was a man now. Lucius had only realised when he’d arrived that he no longer had to bend his head to look into his son’s eyes. It seemed just yesterday he’d been Lucius’ personal shadow, following him around the manor to see what he did all the time. Draco always had a spark of fire in him. Lucius used to have that too. His mother always told him so. It was gone now and, as much as he was a fan of saving his own skin, he just couldn’t bear to have the light go out in Draco’s eyes, for him to see what it was really like to serve the Dark Lord. He’d agonised over the decision during Draco’s fifth year. After he’d been released from Auror custody, he’d made his decision final. Draco was staring at him, that light in his eyes hoping that what he’d worked out was right. Again, Lucius couldn’t bear for it to be put out.

After a breath, he said simply, “You’re welcome.”

A slow, steady smile bloomed on Draco’s face and all Lucius could see this time was Narcissa. Children really were a wonder. The carriage pulled away and Draco waved to him. He responded with a calmer one of his own and sat back, letting out a long sigh.

Draco stood watching the carriage leave. He looked down at his watch. Dumbledore had told him to go to the Hospital Wing after his meeting with his father. After Potter’s reflecting spell yesterday, he had to have a daily check up to make sure the Golden Boy’s progeny was alright. He rolled his eyes and made his way up the front steps of the school. As he reached the top, he turned to catch the last glimpse of his father’s carriage being tugged down the hill to the school gates. He laughed to himself stupidly and went inside.

Things were strained between Ron and Harry. Harry kept his distance, allowing Ron to dictate how far or near he wanted to sit next to him in the Dining Hall or the common room. By Friday night he was at his wits end and Hermione wasn’t too far behind, especially since neither boy had told her exactly what was at the core of their cooling off period. Harry sat staring at the fire. He had a lot to think about. The results had come in and Dumbledore had called him to his office to see them after his training session with Snape. _And wasn’t that a load of fun?_

It was true. Malfoy was having a baby. He had taken a potion, but not of his own volition. The notes Harry had copied out were the wrong ones. Harry ran his hands over his face in frustration. He had a lot to be frustrated about too. This entire situation, it was his fault. He’d been distracted by Malfoy constantly ranting on in his ear about him copying out the notes, since Harry probably couldn’t read well enough to distinguish the correct ingredients. Bad luck had the exact thing happening, as he’d obviously switched from one potion to the other without even noticing. The similarities between the potions, partnered with his ineptness in the subject, rendered him useless in noticing anything amiss.

“Urgh, what am I going to do?”

He’d been avoiding Malfoy like the plague. When he’d listened to the results confirming a child, he’d panicked and even gone as far as to deny it was his. A stupid notion as he’d just heard it was his fault they’d even brewed the stupid fertility potion in the first place. Or, at least, the Half Blood Prince’s fault. Hermione was always telling him that using that damn textbook would get him in trouble. He’d gone back through the textbook and remembered writing out the ingredients and the method, though Malfoy’s comments on his mental abilities had been a distraction on their own. The book said ‘One drop of the maker’, but a note in the margin had said _’Two drops makes it more potent’_ in cursive writing, so he’d written that instead. The fertility potion he’d copied was designed to make the female who took it produce an egg to be fertilized easily, so if he had written ‘ _one drop of the maker_ ’, the potion would have had no effect. But Harry, in his boundless wisdom, had seen Malfoy put in his drops and, after reading his notes, which he’d changed to ‘makers’ because he’d figured that, since they were in a pair...

Harry hung his head. _Oh, what a mess_. Snape was theorising the two different blood types were then combined in the potion which, when ingested, took root in Malfoy’s body... somewhere. Dumbledore had stated that two different types of blood shouldn’t be enough to create a human life. Harry had agreed with that completely, since, from the little he’d learned in his primary school about sex, there had to be an egg and sperm. Snape had then stated that, when creating life in a magical being, magic would always take precedence. Magic and intent. Malfoy had quite a bit of magic, if that locking spell he’d had on the bathroom stall last week was anything to go by and Harry, well he had so much of it, it leaked.

Both Harry and Malfoy had protested greatly at the intent, though.

Snape had turned a glare on them both. He’d then, very calmly, asked them both a question. _“Do you ever fear that you will not be able to continue your family line?”_

Harry had been stumped. That was a fear that would rise to the surface every other day. As much as his trainers tried to convince him otherwise, he was very sure he was going to die soon. Voldemort was getting stronger and his nightmares were getting worse. His eyes had quickly glanced over at Malfoy’s stomach. Had he done this subconsciously? Had he copied out the wrong notes on purpose without really knowing it?

Harry sat forward on the sofa in the common room and groaned again, burying his face in his hands. He was so screwed.

He could still see the scene in Dumbledore’s office clearly. He could see Malfoy narrowing his eyes at him hatefully and telling him that he wanted nothing to do with him. Harry, not to be beaten, had pretty much yelled at him that that was perfectly fine with him. What he didn’t already know, he didn’t need to know. Malfoy could keep it to himself. He’d returned to the common room after a thorough scolding from Professor McGonagall to find Ron sitting with Seamus and Dean laughing, and Hermione at the table doing her homework. With no one to fall back on, he was pretty much by himself.

 _Fuck this, I’m going for a fly._ He got up and took the stairs in twos to get to his room. Flinging open his trunk, he took out his broom and his father’s cloak. He paused at the door. Even if he did manage to get under the cloak, he wouldn’t be able to fit his broom under there too. He’d grown since he was eleven, after all. He was proud to state he was actually the same size as Malfoy, though nowhere near as tall as Ron. The guy was a beanpole.

He opened the window next to his bed and put his cloak on. Straddling his broom, he kicked off and slowly made his way through the window. It was a tight fit, but he made it and closed the window behind him.

The air was cool outside and he let the wind drift him around for a couple of minutes, enjoying the swaying breeze in silence. He opened his eyes and rose higher and higher until he was above the castle. He took off his cloak then and resized it, folded his, now, invisibility napkin and put it in his pocket. He looked around, wondering about where to go. Then he smiled. _Of course_ he thought to himself. _The Quidditch pitch_.

It was half past eleven when he saw Draco Malfoy walking around outside. He immediately slowed down and hovered in the air. He almost took out his cloak again, but thought better when he realised Malfoy wasn’t even paying any attention to anything in his direction. His gaze, in fact, was centred on the lake. Harry frowned and glanced ahead of the blond to the water. He stared for a while, but even under the moon, the water was black as ebony.

_Ripples._

Harry cocked his head to the side and drifted a little closer. It was definitely a ripple. He turned back to Malfoy, only to notice he was even closer to the water than before. A skip in the beat of his heart had him suddenly breaking out into goose bumps. Didn’t Malfoy see the ripples? Surely the little coward should be running away in a terror reminiscent of their second year detention together. A small smile graced his lips as he remembered it, but it was wiped away when he saw a tentacle stray out of the water.

The Giant Squid.

“What the fuck?” he said out loud, his first words of the evening. _Could this term get any stranger?_ He began to fly over to the lake, unable to sit still and watch this potential disaster. However, he pulled up short upon seeing the tentacle reach up into the air and move forward towards Malfoy, who was now at the shore. “What the hell are you doing?” he called out, but it seemed as if the blond couldn't hear him. Malfoy startled at the sight of the tentacle, and then put his hand out to walk into the water. Harry was very confused. Was he under some kind of trance, what the fuck was going on? The water must have been very cold, though. Surely if he was under some sort of spell, the shock of the freezing November water alone should have shocked him out of it. He began to fly again, increasing his speed when he realised Malfoy had been pulled under and he wasn’t coming back up.

He flew right above the area he’d last seen the blond and began calling out to him. He couldn’t see any more ripples, but...

_There_

His subconscious was working overtime lately. There was a group of bubbles surfacing a few metres away. Without even thinking, he flew directly over there and jumped from his broom into the water.

The water below was pitch black and very cold. Through his glasses, he couldn’t see anything unless it was being lit by the light of the moon. He spread out his arms, intent upon swimming further down, but his left arm hit something solid. He jumped back underwater but tentatively put out his arms again to feel cloth. His hand went further down to feel a hand. He squeezed it, but felt no response.

Using up some of the air he had in his lungs he cast an _Accio_ towards his broom and took hold of Malfoy as much as possible. He felt something move up his leg and after looking down through the murky black water, a piercing ray of moonlight lit upon a tentacle slowly winding its way around his ankle. At the same time, he felt the hard bristles of his broom tickle his head. Grabbing hold of the handle, he used the same commands he used when doing evasive manoeuvres during games. The more he rose, the more resistance he could feel and the grip around his ankle tightened. He was running out of air. He had to hurry. Using the last of his air, he sent a _Stupefy_ to the tentacle he could reach and held on tight to his broom as he willed it to rise as quickly as it could. It being a Firebolt, it didn’t have to do much. He broke the surface panting heavily as he held on to Malfoy, who had woken up as soon as the air hit his face. The blond was looking around and spluttering. When his gaze fell on Harry, he looked very confused, but realised Harry’s Firebolt was dragging them half in and half out of the water to the shore, so he settled down.

Harry let go of the broom when the drag of their bodies on land became too heavy to continue holding on. Malfoy was bent over, breathing heavily into the dirt and pebbles, his hair falling forward over his face and hiding his expression.

They needed to move further up the shore, they were still too close to the water as far as Harry was concerned. That Squid seemed a little too intent on keeping them below the water. Harry heaved himself onto his knees and crawled across to Malfoy, who was doing little else than breathing. He didn’t blame him, he certainly wasn’t doing enough of it before. But as Harry grabbed a hold of him to pull him up further onto the pebbled shore, Malfoy pushed him away. “Let me go!”

Harry frowned. “Malfoy-”

The blond shrugged off his hands again. “No!” he yelled. “No,” he said quieter, more sedate, though there was no one around to hear them argue. “Stay the fuck away from me.” He stood up shakily and paused a moment to get his footing. When he was sure he had his land legs, he began to walk away, still breathing heavily.

Harry, indignant, stood up too. The nerve of the bloody Slytherin, not even a fucking thank you for saving his life. Angrily, he stomped after him. “What – so next time I should let you drown?”

Malfoy didn’t even pause. “Next time, you should mind your own _fucking_ business.” He turned angrily mid-stride to glare at Harry before continuing on.

Harry paused. A sudden clear as day picture entered his mind of Malfoy walking towards the lake and into the water putting out his hand... He’d wondered at the way he was walking so late at night, almost as if he had somewhere to be – a purpose. He gasped, his eyes widening. “Was this-?” Malfoy was still walking so he had to catch up to him again. “Malf- Draco!” Harry ran around him. “You didn’t just try to-” He pointed towards the lake with a weak finger, his breath still coming in light pants. “This wasn’t on purpose, was it?” When there was no answer, Harry swallowed back some bile and tried again. “I want to know.”

Draco’s eyes could have cut steel. “Thought you didn’t _need_ to know?”

Oh. That hurt. “It’s my child too,” he said with little strength in his tone. Having just realised the gravity of what had just happened, Harry lost all his conviction. Surely Draco Malfoy had not just attempted to-

“Oh, yes, of course. Suddenly it’s yours. Suddenly, you _care_.” Draco narrowed his eyes. “Well, guess what, I don’t. And if I want to drown myself in a bloody lake, I’ll thank you to keep your easily-broken nose out of it.” He _hadn’t_ wanted to drown himself in the lake, but that was beside the point.

Harry fought the urge to touch his nose again. Remembering how Malfoy had broken it on the train always brought up a phantom pain. A very familiar wave of fury rose to the surface. He knew what the boy was doing. Draco _obviously_ knew what he was doing. He’d been right in the bathroom weeks ago; Zabini really had nothing on the master.

And fucking Merlin, but Harry wished he wasn’t so easy.

Draco rounded him, walking away. Harry stared at the lake, wondering what would have really happened if he hadn’t felt compelled to go for a restricted fly around the pitch. He hadn’t really felt much of anything towards Malfoy before, let alone a child he claimed was his. Somehow, though, finding himself almost losing one or both of them had brought up a sick feeling in his stomach that he just wasn’t able to deal with yet. And for some reason, that feeling hadn’t gone away.

“What are you going to do when you start to show?” He turned around and watched the wet lines of Draco’s back as he paused. Two could play his game. “Assuming you will?” Malfoy turned toward him, an incredulous look on his face. He scoffed and continued walking away. Okay, not the reaction he’d hoped for. The blond obviously had no care for anything Harry had to say. “Draco, I’m serious.”

Draco paused, possibly stunned by the use of his name, but more likely the implication that, once again, he was lying. Even more than likely, it was because he’d just been reminded of their meeting in Dumbledore’s office and all the things Harry’d said. “Fuck you, Potter.” And just in case he didn’t understand, he got a two finger salute for his trouble.

Harry ran up to the blond again. “No, really, I’m serious. What will you do?”

Draco didn’t even spare him a glance as he walked, sodden, up the hill towards the school. “What the hell do you care?”

“Like I said-”

“Like _you_ said, it isn’t even yours.” Finally. _Finally_ , Draco stopped and turned to him. There was anger in his eyes, bleeding into fury at being bothered so much by someone who claimed they had no reason to give him the time of day. Harry regretted those words now, because they were all being thrown in his face with one incensed glare. But there was something else. Harry detected something more. Harry stared, trying hard to figure it out. “So why are you even trying, Potter, why bother with something you don’t even want?” Draco was staring at him, intent upon not breaking his gaze. Harry knew this routine and he played his part perfectly.

 _His eyes are glistening,_ his subconscious suddenly pointed out to him before he could reply. His thought pattern halted and he ended up staring. Instead of the routine answer to their game, his mind supplied for him instead, _What the...?_

Then, suddenly, Draco broke eye contact and walked away again, effectively ending their game of Stare. “Just leave me alone, Potter. This is fucking ridiculous.”

Harry stared at the empty air. _Did I....?_ He had. He had seen it. It was real. Malfoy was about to cry. He turned his head towards the school to see him running the remaining metres to the school steps. He’d made Malfoy cry and, somehow, that knowledge didn’t settle well in his stomach. His hand absently came up to rub it. _Was it something I said?_ Even as he thought it, he knew the answer was yes. He’d said it wasn’t possible. When that had been disproved, he’d denied it happening. When he’d been given the results, he’d changed his story to the child not even being his.

Harry sat down on the grass. He had to be wary of Malfoy the last couple of weeks. Now, Malfoy wanted nothing to do with him. He hadn’t even wanted to tell him and Harry was sure he wouldn’t have if his friends hadn’t asked Harry for help in the first place. But Draco didn’t do anything without a reason and he’d allowed them to tell him without coming back to _Obliviate_ him for what must have been a very good one. They’d told Harry to stop him from fighting Draco, to keep the child safe, and what had Harry done? He’d denied it and told the blond he could do what he wanted, that he didn’t need to know.

_...why are you even trying, Potter? Why bother with something you don’t even want?_

Why _was_ he bothering?

_Because you didn’t know how much you wanted it until you thought you were losing it for good._

His eyes ran over the lake before he looked up at the school. Mal- _Draco_ he forced his mind to call him – was probably in his dorm by now. He was probably crying too. _Shit_. He’d hurt him. Tough as he acted, the second the mask slipped, he’d disappeared so Harry wouldn’t see. He was going to have to fix this.

_Fuck._

Blaise was sitting on his bed reading through a passage for their Transfiguration class. He looked up when the door opened and his eyebrows rose when Draco walked in soaking wet. “What the hell happened to you?” he exclaimed as he put down his textbook. He grabbed a towel.

Draco peeled off his robe. Now that he was in the warmth of their dorm room, he figured it was alright. “I went for a swim,” he said vaguely. He took the towel, saying ‘thanks’ absently.

 _A swim?_ “Where,” Blaise laughed, “in the lake?” Draco wasn’t laughing with him. In fact, all he did was continue to take off his clothes. “Are you serious?” Silently, Draco nodded. “Why?” he asked quietly.

Finally getting the shirt he’d been stuck in off, Draco threw it to the ground in a sodden heap. It actually made a splattering noise when it landed. “I...” Draco covered his face with his hands as he stood shirtless. “I don’t know.” He turned to the window to see the swirling patterns of the water from the lake moving outside. “I was here, staring out the window and thinking...” He frowned realising that he didn’t actually remember much after that until- “Then I suddenly needed to be outside. I... I heard...” He shook his head. “Something was calling me.” He sat down on the edge of his bed. “It sounded so good. I don’t... I don’t remember what it sounded like, but the more I walked, the closer I got to it, I felt free.”

Blaise nodded to keep the story going. It sounded like bewitchment. But what lived outside that could do that? “Then what?”

Draco deflated. “Then I was surfacing the lake with Harry Potter clutching onto me and his broom and being dragged towards the shore.” He scrubbed his hand over his face again as if he was waking up from another dream. “I felt like shit all over again and I got angry.”

 _Ah._ “You got angry at him?” Draco nodded. “Even though he just saved your life.”

Draco narrowed his eyes at Blaise and turned away with an incredulous look. “Oh, screw you, Blaise. I don’t need this from you too.”

 _Who else are you getting it from?_ “Hey,” he said instead. “I’m the last one to tell you to make nice with the guy.” He raised his hands in surrender. “It’s just, if what you’re saying is true, something just lured you _out_ of your dorm room, outside to the lake and attempted to kill you. All that aside, you didn’t complain.” He sat back now, content that Draco was fine. He wasn’t shaking so hard anymore. His anger must have warmed him up. Blaise let out a small smile. Leave it to Harry Potter to get Draco hot under the collar. “At the very least, he should have got a thank you. If he wasn’t out there too-”

“If he wasn’t the one to lure me in the first place,” Draco muttered as he wrapped the towel around his waist. He needed a hot shower.

Blaise snorted rather inelegantly. “Please. The guy already said he wants nothing to do with you, you think he’s going to take time out of his sleep to lure you outside and kill you? Hell, all he has to do is wait.” When Draco crossed his arms, watching him, Blaise didn’t back down from the challenge. “If any of our housemates get wind of this, we’ll all die slowly anyway, if we aren’t handed over to the Dark Lord in a gift basket.” Blaise opened his book again, trying to find his page.

Letting his arms drop, the challenging look faded away and Draco cracked a smile, which he was sure was the purpose of that drivel. “I’m going to take a hot shower, wash the lake off my skin.”

Blaise turned a couple pages, finding his last line and continued reading. “Okay, just don’t listen to any voices telling you to hold your breath under the spray.”

By the time Draco was done and walking back into his bedroom, Blaise was getting ready for bed. He hung up his towel and threw his dirty clothes into the high basket each room was equipped with. Settling into bed to sleep, he prayed he wouldn’t wake up again in the lake. He couldn’t believe the Giant Squid had managed that. She had sounded... so soothing. He honestly thought his troubles would end if he’d followed that voice. _Urgh_ he thought to himself and buried his head under his quilt. _Hmm, warm_. Now all he had to do was avoid Potter outside of class.

Hopefully, Draco wouldn’t have to face him for the rest of the week.

It was too much to ask for. Everyone knew that if there was a place you _didn’t_ want Harry Potter to be, and something you didn’t want him to do – eventually, he’d end up there on his own, doing exactly that. “It has come to our attention that you may have some anxiety.”

Draco sat, once more, in Dumbledore’s office staring at the Headmaster as he spoke. His eyes moved from the old man to his Head of House. He then turned his sights on Professor McGonagall before letting his gaze smoulder into a glare as he settled on Harry Potter. He shook his head at the boy before focusing on Dumbledore. “I may have some what?” he asked, his expression saying he found this entire farce ridiculous.

“Anxiety about your pregnancy,” Dumbledore expounded.

Behind Potter, McGonagall shifted. He wondered what that was all about and then he remembered it was the detention she’d supervised that had caused this. _Yeah, stew on it. Feel the guilt._ Draco focused on the conversation. _What the hell are they talking about?_ “No, I don’t have any anxiety.” He sat back and narrowed his eyes. “I’m over the moon.” _Can’t you tell?_

His Head of House cleared his throat and Draco’s gaze set instinctively on him. “Then perhaps you’d care to explain what you were doing by the lake last night?”

His stomach dropped, turned, and spun in place as his glare kicked up a notch, enough that Potter now flinched when he was levelled with it. “Don’t look at me like that,” Potter said bravely anyway. “You told me it was on purpose.”

Draco’s fists tightened on the chair he was sitting down. He gripped the arms so tightly his fists were white. “I also told you to mind your own fu-” He stopped himself before he could swear. McGonagall was bound to use a _Soapallicius_ on him if he tried that again “-business.”

Potter shook his head at him. “I can’t do that.”

Draco narrowed his eyes again. “You could _last_ week.” It hit the mark. Potter visibly recoiled as if he’d been slapped.

“I don’t want to anymore,” he said quietly.

Dumbledore stepped in to save his precious charge from a scolding. “Regardless of your quarrelling, if indeed you are feeling anxious enough to resort to such measures, the faculty will have to take precautions.”

Draco glanced at Snape, trying to gauge the seriousness of the situation. “What type of precautions?” he asked him.

Snape crossed his arms over his chest. “Essentially, you’re under suicide watch.”

Draco sat forward. He blinked once, twice, three times. “What?” He took in the expressions of the adults in the room one by one. “You - _what_?” He stood up. “I’m not suicidal!”

McGonagall spoke up now. “Were you or were you not making an attempt on your life?”

“No! I – she wouldn’t hurt me,” he blurted out and immediately regretted it. _Where did that come from?_ He sat down quietly, adding to the silence the room had now fallen into.

“Who?” Snape said, coming out of his lean against the nearest bookshelf.

Draco shook his head. “Nobody.”

Harry sat to the edge of his seat and leaned over. “Are you talking about the squid? The Giant Squid – the one that pulled you in last night?”

Dumbledore rested his hands flat against his desk in surprise. He took note of the brand new glare Draco had patented for Harry Potter alone. “The Giant Squid _pulled_ you in? Harry, you did not mention this part,” he said, directing his gaze to the Gryffindor.

Harry blushed red. “I was more focused on the fact that he _let_ it.”

Snape walked up to Draco and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Is this true, Draco?” Draco kept his mouth shut. Snape huffed. His gaze moved from Draco to Dumbledore and back again. “Mr Malfoy. Regardless of my thoughts of Mr Potter, if you are indeed allowing dangerous creatures to bewitch you, I’m going to have to agree to this protective measure.”

Finally getting a response, Draco lifted his head. “What protective measure?” he asked suspiciously.

Instead of answering, Snape went into a bit of back story. Experience dictated that Draco wouldn’t like the outcome. “Our dormitory is underwater, you understand this?”

“...Yes.”

“And knowing the Giant Squid as the faculty do,” he said, his eyes roaming among the other teachers in the room before settling on Draco again, “if she has tried to bewitch you once, she will again.”

“Bewitch me?”

“The Giant Squid is partial to those in your condition because the extra magic in your body attracts her. This isn’t usually a problem, since there are wards around the parts of the castle that are underwater and our House usually has more propriety than that.” He cleared his throat and ignored Draco’s pink blush. “I honestly wasn’t sure if she would go after you, since you aren’t female, but it seems she has no preference in the vessel. She is only interested in your signature.” Draco nodded, understanding.

“Why is she here?” Harry asked, finally voicing the question he’d had in his mind since they’d begun talking.

Dumbledore turned his gaze on Harry. “Pardon?”

Harry had been trying to figure this out for a while. The castle was supposed to be the safest place in Britain, but it was surrounded by a Forbidden Forest teeming with dangerous animals, more than one of which had tried to eat him, and a lake overflowing with Merfolk and a Giant Squid that fed on pregnant people. “Why is it even there? What’s its purpose? Does it even have one?” he asked.

“She is usually harmless,” Dumbledore said. “To answer your questions,” he added, since Harry’s expression stated he didn’t care if she was _usually_ harmless. “She has been here longer than the castle has and belongs to the Merfolk in the village at the bottom of the lake. She serves as a guardian and protector for them. Didn’t you notice that she was absent during your task in the Triwizard Tournament?” Dumbledore asked and Harry shrank back, feeling a little stupid. Dumbledore turned back to Draco. “You will also notice that boys are not allowed in the girls’ dorms. We know of the Giant Squid’s proclivity toward people who are powerful, but it is usually controlled by the wards around the castle. She is kept away from the school by the Merfolk and, in return, their village is left alone. However, individuals such as yourself who have more than one signature in you, she really can’t resist. She sends out a signal, and those with the level of power you have come to her.” He turned to Harry. “It may well be that is the reason you were outside, Harry. Your training, however, seems to have helped.” Dumbledore levelled Harry with a knowing stare.

Harry did find it strange, now that he thought about it, that he’d suddenly decided he had to go outside and fly. He’d been hit with the urges before but the need had dwindled over the years. Harry’s eyes went hard, the small amount of _Occlumency_ he’d received did seem to have paid off. He’d be damned if he said thank you to Snape though.

“It is curious though,” the Headmaster said.

“What is?” Draco asked.

“Usually there has to be some form of intent that she latches onto. The Squid lures you with what you want to hear and what you want most of all to feel.” Everyone’s eyes turned to Draco. “It is what has made them so successful in drowning so many mariners over the centuries.”

Draco flushed pink. He remembered the blissful feeling of freedom of having this pregnancy done with so he could go back to his life. That voice had promised him that. “What’s the measure?” he said instead. Next to him, Harry shifted in his seat, more interested in what was about to happen to him now.

“We will be moving you to Gryffindor tower,” McGonagall stated succinctly. Two sets of jaws hit the floor. “It is the highest point, away from the lake, that is inhabitable.”

Draco went pale. “You want me to stay with _him_?” He pointed to Harry.

“Hey!” Harry exclaimed offended.

McGonagall shook her head. “It’s a bit late to be trying to prevent something we never thought could happen, but no, you will not be staying with Mr Potter. You will receive your own room, if only for your own protection. I have faith in the members of my House. However, I know how boys can be when they believe no one is looking.” She directed a knowing stare to Harry, who looked away.

Dumbledore clapped his hands once, wrapping up the discussion. “Good then. It’s settled.”

Draco felt overwhelmed for a while. “Wait, wait, _wait_!” They stared at him. “Do I get any say in this at all?”

Dumbledore stared at him. “This is the safest measure we can provide for you, Mr Malfoy. Do you have a suggestion?” he asked the irate blond.

He most certainly did have fucking suggestions. Draco shook his head, trying to sort out his thoughts. “I just need to get this straight.” He started at the beginning. “In order to _prevent_ me from-” He laughed “-committing suicide. You want to put me in the one place I’m _not_ going to be welcomed, _alone_ , with the guy who _got_ me this way in the first place? Is that right?” He stared at them as though they were all touched in the head.

Harry cocked his head at the blond. “I didn’t exactly do it _alone_ , if you catch my drift.” He got a withering glare for his trouble. Harry thought about it, though. The logic did seem flawed when Malfoy said it like that. He bit his lip, thinking of something, but wasn’t sure how well they would take it. _Fuck it_ “Bring someone with you.”

Everyone looked at him. He coloured a little and cleared his throat. Dumbledore was smiling at him. “Splendid idea.” He turned to Draco. “Is there anyone you would feel comfortable bringing with you to help? I’m sure you’d feel better with a companion.”

Draco still watched Harry, an unreadable look in his eyes. “Blaise.”

Snape cocked an eyebrow. “Mr Zabini?” That was interesting. “Very well. We’ll have his things moved also.”

The portrait guarding the Slytherin Dorms opened and Draco walked through it, into the common room and sat on one of the leather sofas by the fire. He spotted Pansy sitting down reading a novel she’d picked up at one of the shops in Hogsmeade earlier in the term. As he neared her, he could feel the edge of a shielding spell. His anger, which had dissipated a little after leaving the Headmaster’s office, returned. _Fuck_. “Were they cursing you again?” he asked as he sat down, his arm going around her, to lie along the back of the chair. He glared at the groups sitting around. As he did, he noticed Blaise come in with his bag on his shoulder.

 _Library resident_ , Draco thought fondly and was about to call him over when Pansy began to speak to him. “-and it was her fault to begin with.” Oh, scratch that, she was already talking. “Did you get her back?” he asked, hoping he was saying the right thing. All thoughts of Blaise went out of his mind.

She gave him an obvious look. “Why do you think I have a shield charm up?”

Draco laughed, but bit into his bottom lip anyway, as Pansy went back to her novel. He was worried about her. Perhaps he could ask if she could come too. He didn’t want to leave her there alone. Potter seemed to be regretting what he’d said now that he knew their potion-created progeny was real. Maybe he could mention it during one of their arguments, really stir up the guilt. More things tended to get done that way. He let his head fall back on the couch to stare at the never-ending ceiling. He cocked his head, which pretty much resulted in him laying his head against Pansy’s. Not that she minded. He knew the ceiling had to have an end. After all, the ground floor stood upon them. Magic really was a phenomenal thing. He was glad he had it. His hand moved to cover his stomach and he closed his eyes.

“Okay,” Blaise called out at the top of the stairs that led to the common room. He threw down his bag, looking positively homicidal. “Does _anyone_ want to tell me where the _fuck_ all my things are?”

“Shit,” he said to himself. They had done that fast. “Er, Blaise,” he called and flinched when the incensed glare turned to him. He got up and took Pansy’s hand to drag her along. “We need to talk.”

Blaise gestured behind him, to the general direction of where his room was. “My things-”

Draco nodded. “I know. I can explain.”

The dark-skinned boy paused, eyeing him warily. “You?”

“Yeah, me.” Though right now, he’d pay for it to be anyone else.

Harry stared at the stairs leading to the dorms. Not ten minutes ago, Professor McGonagall and Snape had led Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini up them towards the third level of dorms for senior students. They were supposed to be up there next year. He couldn’t believe Malfoy got to experience them before he did. They’d apparently been put in one of the spare rooms at the end of the corridor. Merlin knew why it was there, Harry supposed it was in case troubled Slytherins needed shelter from their venomous roommates.

“I guess he’s getting a Prefect’s room because he’s a Prefect,” Hermione said as she gazed up the stairs too. _Huh_ , he’d forgotten Malfoy was a prefect.

“Are you sure he didn’t wink at me?” said Ron, who’d been repeating the line since Blaise Zabini had walked past and stared at him a little too hard.

Harry rolled his eyes. He really didn’t care. There were Slytherins in his home.

“Harry,” he heard and turned to Dean, Seamus, Neville, Ginny and Lavender. They were all staring at him. He wasn’t sure which one of the boys had called him, since they were now all silent.

“Yeah?”

“What did you do?” Neville said.

Harry raised his eyebrows. “Me? Why does it have to be me?”

Dean laughed. “Really?” He gave Harry an obvious look when Harry actually looked serious. “Harry. One: it’s always you. Two: you, Ron and Hermione were the only ones who didn’t protest when they were led in here by our Head of House.”

Harry calmed down. _Oh_. “Well... er, I don’t know why he’s here.”

Dean cocked an eyebrow. “Right.” He turned to Ron. “So, Ron. Do you know why he’s here?”

Ron had been staring at the stairs the entire time. He turned to Dean and shook his head. “I do know he winked at me though, though no one else seems to have seen it but me. It’s weird. Why did he do that?” he asked turning back to the dorms.

Harry frowned at him and then looked across to Hermione. She shrugged, going back to her book. She’d long since decided to just not ask.

“This shall be your home for the rest of the term.”

 _Oh, Merlin, this place is so red._ “Goody,” Blaise said looking around the room. It was a Prefect’s room. Why Gryffindor had two of them _and_ a Head Boy’s room was a mystery. He dropped his book bag on the bed by the far window. There were three of them. All this natural light would take some time to get used to. He sat down and listened to McGonagall talk about where the showers were in relation to the room and if there were any problems to come directly to her. He snorted mentally. _Like that was going to happen._ Judging from the look on her face, she knew it too.

When she was done, Draco turned to his Head of House. “Erm, Sir, I asked about Pansy?”

Snape sighed. For someone who didn’t even want to move up here, Draco was treating it like a hotel. “Miss Parkinson’s dilemma has been appealed to the Headmaster. He has stated that he will think on it. Your personal vouch for her seems to have softened him up, though.”

Draco relaxed a little. Pansy had not taken the news too well. He felt like he was abandoning her. He didn’t want her to be on her own after everything that had been happening with her family. If her mother heard about this, she might pull her out completely and school her from home. He didn’t think Pansy would survive that. “Good.” Maybe he didn’t have to drop a name to Potter after all. “I really don’t want to leave her there alone. She had a shield charm up in the common room last night while she reading a novel.”

Blaise eyed him sharply. “Why was she reading a novel? She has got homework, I know that for sure.”

Rolling his eyes, Draco glared at him. “Blaise, focus.” He turned back to his Head of House. “Is there anything I can do to help convince him?”

McGonagall cocked an eyebrow at the suggestion. “You do realise she will be alone up here too if she is moved.”

Draco nodded in reply. “Yes, but I don’t think the Gryffindors would mess with her here.” He smirked. Pansy’s hexes were legendary in the common room. The difference was that the snakes knew how to research to one up her.

McGonagall continued to eye his expression. “Then perhaps she can take care of herself.”

Draco sobered. He then shook his head. Observant, this one. “Not if she’s ganged up on. Here, we’ll at least be around her to give her some sort of support.”

Snape nodded. “Point taken. I’ll pass that on to the Headmaster.”

“Thank you,” he said to them as they left. “We’re in Gryffindor Tower. I have to tell Father about this.” He dug through his bag that he’d put on the other bed in the room, since Blaise had chosen his already. He let the boy have his way, as Draco had pretty much dragged him into his mess. He found a chocolate truffle he’d shoved in there and unwrapped it.

“Sure you want to eat that?” Draco looked up at Blaise, who was glaring at him. “You need to look out for your boyish figure.” Draco narrowed his eyes. There was a bad mood and then there was simply bitchiness.

“Fuck off, I’m hungry.”

Draco looked up at the cup of steaming liquid that was put on the table next to his essay. He was sitting at the large table to one side of the common room doing his homework. Blaise had talked him down because the entire tower was abuzz with the news of their stay. He’d finally got him down when he’d stated that their presence would distract everyone, maybe even cause a couple of fights. He couldn’t resist that. Draco continued staring at the cup and purposefully ignored the hand that held it. “I brought you some tea,” he heard by way of explanation.

It wasn’t enough. “Why?”

When there was no answer, he looked up. “I heard it helps with the nausea,” Harry finally said.

Draco defiantly squashed, trampled and mauled the part of him that softened at that. If he had a stomach left after this morning, he’d be lucky. Behind him, Draco could see a group of Gryffindors watching Harry like he was crazy. That steeled his resolve. None of them wanted him there and he felt exactly the same way. “The only thing making me feel sick is you. If you want to help, stay away from me.” His head tilted down as he returned to his essay. He waited for the sigh and frowned when he didn’t hear it. He tried to restart his essay, but it was impossible with an _audience_. “ _What_?” He rested his arms on the table and waited.

“I’m trying to be nice.” The voice was soft. Draco said nothing.

From the level he was staring at, he saw when a chair was tugged from opposite and dragged around to sit at the corner, where he was. Next to him, Blaise was grinning as he wrote and Draco glared at him. As Harry sat down next to him, he rolled his eyes and sighed, looking away. “What the fuck,” he mumbled, irritated already.

“Look, I know that I said some mean-” The expression he received made him backtrack. “-evil?” The expression softened. “Alright, evil things before and I know that they hurt you.”

Draco snorted. “I’m not hurt. You can’t hurt me, because I don’t care.”

Harry’d heard that line enough times, he was sure Draco had finally convinced himself that he didn’t care. “Of course, and I am sorry. I _am_ ,” he added when he received another eye roll. “I’m trying here, I really am, but... you’re not making it easy.”

Draco turned and glared at him. “It’s not my job to make it easy, Potter.” He gathered up his things. “Blaise, I’m going upstairs. I can’t believe you convinced me to sit down here.”

Blaise nodded and let him go. He knew better than to try and convince him to stay some more. He eyed the cup of tea. “You gonna drink that?” he asked the rejected brunet. Harry shook his head and Blaise took it, taking a sip. Oh yeah, elves knew how to make a cup of tea.

“What am I doing wrong?” Harry ventured with the more sedate Slytherin sitting downstairs by himself.

Blaise turned to him, almost done with his work. He smiled knowingly. “Your delusions, they are troubling if you truly believe it’s that easy.” He turned back to his work, effectively ignoring Harry and drank some more tea. He smiled when Harry huffed and walked away.

“What did Professor Snape say?” Pansy asked as Draco sat down for breakfast the next morning.

Draco didn’t know what to tell her. “I’m sorry. There isn’t any confirmation right now. He said he’d pass on my request though.” He eyed her carefully. “What did they do?”

Pansy shook her head. “It’s nothing I can’t handle. I just wish I could get out of there. Daphne’s driving me insane.”

“You think it’s better in the Red Tower?” Blaise quipped. He staked a piece of beef with his fork and devoured it. Draco laughed.

“I’m surprised that you’re here, Malfoy.” All three of them looked up at Theodore Nott. As a collective they sighed when the boy sat down opposite Blaise. “Shouldn’t you be sitting with your new House? You’ve been resorted haven’t you?” he asked innocently.

Draco simply stared at him.

Nott, frustrated now, shook his head at him and got up. He walked down the table to the group he always hung out with. Greg and Vince were down there. Draco sighed. He could have been one of them. He got up. “I’m taking the day off. Just tell the teachers I’m sick.” Blaise immediately started in on him, but Draco put up a hand. “Blaise, we have Care of Magical Creatures and History of Magic. If I can’t take off today, I can’t take off any day.”

Blaise gritted his teeth. “You _can’t_ take off any day.”

“Draco, this pregnancy is going to have you sluggish, you have to keep up with your studies. And this is coming from me,” Pansy said from her side of the table.

“He’s _what_?” They froze and turned to see that Nott had walked back up to them, probably to surprise them with his witty retort. As they were speaking, he’d paused. Now, he stared at Draco, his eyes traversing his frame.

Draco felt more scared now than he ever had in his lifetime.

“Like I said, you can take off today.” He turned to Blaise. Blaise gave him a look. “Like, _right now_.” When Draco still didn’t move, he stood up. “Draco, go. Nott’s already down the table spreading the news.”

His breath was coming in very shallow. “Fuck.”

Blaise, recognising that Draco was not of a sound mind right now, turned to Pansy. “Pansy, take him. Go, _now_.” She nodded and got up, picking up her bag and Draco’s and pulled Draco out the door.

Across the Hall, Harry frowned at Malfoy’s condition as Parkinson dragged him out the hall. Next to him, Hermione sighed. Harry wasn’t paying her any attention though, so she turned to Ron. “I suppose that now he’s carrying Harry’s child, this obsession is going to get worse.”

Ron snorted in reply as Harry got up to follow the pair of Slytherins out. “That goes without saying,” he said, not bothering to even look up from his breakfast. He was glad they had a free period first thing, or else Hermione would be upset when he finally sighed and grabbed her hand. He got up and pulled her with him. “He’s going to need our help.”

When they stepped into the Gryffindor common room, they could see Parkinson with Malfoy in the living area around the fireplace. The blond had his head buried in the squishy sofa. His hair had spread out around his head and he was groaning into the material. Harry was standing up next to the sofa, while Parkinson sat on one of the small ottomans that sat around the room. The brunet cocked his head and Malfoy fisted his hands in one of the cushions.

“It’s going to be horrible. I can’t show my face. They’ll all be watching me.” Ron sat down on the two-seater adjacent to him. “Oh, shit!” Malfoy said sitting up. If he noticed Ron and Hermione sitting down, he didn’t show it. Instead, he focused on Parkinson, his face red and his eyes manic. “I’m going to get bigger, aren’t I? And they’re all going to see.”

“Malfoy,” Harry said. Ron and Hermione’s gaze went to him.

They switched back when Malfoy spoke, ignoring him. “I can already hear the fat jokes.” It was muffled into the cushion he brought up to his face, but still distinguishable.

Parkinson put her hand over his and rubbed it. “Oh, Draco.”

Malfoy shook his head. Behind them, Ron could hear the portrait hole opening. He turned to see the other sixth years coming in. Since they had a free period before break, they’d opted for returning to the common room, since, that was obviously where all the juicy sources of gossip were hanging out. “Nott is going to have a field day and Murdoch is going to eat me alive.” Dean and Seamus stood behind the two-seater. Bemused looks graced their faces and they looked down at Ron to fill them in.

In reply, Ron simply shook his head. They didn’t want to know.

“Malfoy,” Harry said again.

Once more, he went ignored. “And Daphne,” he said angrily, the cushion slamming down onto his lap. He looked at Pansy. “That little snake can never keep her mouth shut. This is going to be all over the school by lunch.” He collapsed again onto the couch moaning.

“Dramatic isn’t he?” Seamus said grinning at Ron. “Good luck, Harry.”

“Wh-” Harry’s mouth opened in shock. In the end, he shook his head and put his hand on Draco’s shoulder. The glare he received made him freeze.

“You think I’m dramatic? Touch me again and I’ll create a scene like you wouldn’t believe.”

“What will be all over the school by lunch?” Neville bravely asked.

Draco sat up abruptly. “That I’m pregnant!” he said in wild fury. Neville gulped. “You happy, Longbottom? I’m having your Golden Boy’s baby! Yeah?! Deal with it!” he screamed at the boy and dove back down to plant his face in the chair. Neville jumped and hid behind Dean, who’d jumped back at the outburst too. Lavender and Parvati, who’d followed the boys upstairs, gasped. Their mouths remained open in shock.

“I thought he said he wouldn’t create a scene,” Ron said and chuckled.

“Er...m,” Harry said, a little freaked out by the stares the girls were giving him. “Hey,” he said softly to Malfoy. He was careful not to touch him this time. The last non-scene was not something he wanted to experience again. “Look on the bright side.”

With a sigh befitting of his father’s majestic tantrums, Draco sat up. “Where is it?” he said to Harry, his tone biting.

Harry shrugged. “You already told your parents. You know it would be ten times worse if they didn’t know and heard it from, I don’t know, say, Voldemort.” A series of winces surrounded him after he said it, but he ignored the faces.

Draco thought to himself. That was a good bright side. He could give the guy that.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Dean rounded the two-seater and sat on the arm next to Ron. “Malfoy is _actually_ pregnant.” He transferred his gaze to Harry. “And you’re the father?” Harry nodded. His gaze flicked between them. “And you’ve told his parents? As in Lucius Malfoy?”

Harry gestured to the over-dramatic mess on the couch. “He told him. I was training.”

Dean was a little speechless. “And they’re okay with it?”

Draco let his head rest on the back of the couch he was on. He stared at the ceiling. _Why are all the ceilings here endless?_ “Mother is throwing a party next week.” He raised his head to look at Harry. “She’s invited you, by the way.”

Harry snorted. “I’m not going to your house.”

Draco raised his head again. “It’s a manor. Not a house.” His head dropped back. “My home is twenty times bigger than a house.” He stared at the ceiling some more. “Plebeian,” he muttered.

Harry shook his head. “I don’t care. I’m not going to your _home_.”

“So you can knock him up, but can’t deal with the consequences?” Dean said grinning.

Seamus gasped. “Was this why you were asking me about Peter?” He focused his attention on Harry, his mouth open. “Mate, you could have just come to me, you didn’t have to blame it all on Hermione.”

“I appreciated the literature though, Seamus, so thanks.”

He shrugged. “That’s okay.” He turned back to focus on Harry trying to calm down the Slytherin on their common room couch. It nothing else, it would be entertaining.

As they spoke, Blaise finally entered the Gryffindor common room. He paused at the group of Gryffindors that turned to face him. He looked like a Graphorn held at wandpoint. They were surrounding him, after all. When they turned back to the centre of their circle, he cocked his head. Craning it around the group, he noticed Draco lying down on the couch. “Draco?” he called.

Draco sat up. “Blaise!” He looked torn between horror and anxiety.

Blaise looked around. The Gryffindors seemed to be hanging off Draco’s every word. He cocked an eyebrow. Pansy stared at him shaking her head. _So, I don’t want to know?_ he thought to himself. His expression must have been easily read because Pansy nodded after he thought it. Blaise nodded once and began walking to the stairs. “Both of you,” he said with authority. “Upstairs.”

“They already know,” Harry said gesturing to their audience. Blaise looked around and then glared at Harry. “Malfoy told them, not me!”

Blaise clucked his tongue and shook his head. “Draco, Pansy, upstairs. _Now._ ”

Pansy picked up her bag, as well as Draco’s and nudged the boy on the couch to move. By the time they got up, Blaise had topped the common room stairs and was waiting for them. He turned his attention to Harry. “You three, too.” The three in question looked to each other. “ _Today_. This has to do with your future child and niece or nephew.” Harry raised his eyebrows at the order, but then recalled that the Slytherins had been facing off Theodore Nott before Pansy had pulled Draco away. _How could I have forgotten that?_ He then remembered Draco’s tantrum and figured anyone would have forgotten with that going on. He sighed and began walking. Ron shared a look with Hermione and got up too.

Draco entered his bedroom when Blaise held the door open and crossed straight to his bed. He lay across it and dug through his bedside drawer. By the time the Gryffindors caught up, he’d pulled out a chocolate bar he’d got from Honeydukes the last weekend gone. Harry walked in and took a seat at the desk nearest to him. He must have stared at Draco a little too long because the blond paused.

“What? I’m hungry.”

“Can anyone explain to me what just happened?” He may not have wanted to know before, but he definitely did now.

Pansy dropped the two bags she was carrying and gestured to Draco, who had collapsed back on his bed. “He had a meltdown. Over _Theo_.” She looked at Draco like she expected better of him.

Draco stared back. “Don’t look at me like that. Ever since my father-” He glanced around at the others in the room. He figured that since the cat was out of the bag, they might as well know everything else. “- got me out, who do you think is my replacement?” He stared meaningfully at Blaise and then at Pansy, who had the grace to look embarrassed. “If this gets back to... _Him_. I could be-” He laughed hysterically. “Well, there are a lot of things that can be done to me.” He bit off a chunk of chocolate and looked at it. _Calming effects, my arse._

“The hell there is.” Draco paused and looked up at Harry. The Gryffindor looked offended at the mere idea that Voldemort would even _touch_ his future child.

“Of course there are.” He swallowed. “There are curses, hexes – though I don’t think they’ll reduce themselves to first years.” He bit his lip. “Then there are the spells, oh!” he said thinking of another one. “And the chants.” He shuddered. “Those are nasty.”

Harry shook his head. “It doesn’t matter, I won’t let it happen. Not with Him and not with anyone here.”

Draco snorted. “Please. Don’t bother. If the Dark Lord wants me dead, I’ll be dead soon.”

Harry snorted in turn. “He’s wanted me dead for sixteen years.” He gestured wide to allow Draco to catch onto the fact that he was still there.

Draco did. He then narrowed his eyes at him. “Yeah, but you have Potter genes. Nothing happens to you.” He looked away and muttered, “Fucking lucky bastard.”

Ron cocked an eyebrow. “No offense, but you’ve kind of got them now too, don’t you? What with, er, Junior in there,” he said pointing to Draco’s stomach.

Draco looked down. He’d forgotten that. He looked hopeful for a second then he collapsed backward again.

“I have all my classes with Slytherins. And I have _Potter genes_.” He dropped his chocolate bar on the bed next to his head and covered his face with his hands. “I’m an even bigger target than before.”

Pansy went to sit next to him. She ran her fingers through his hair. “Thank Merlin you don’t have the mark, this could be a disaster for you.”

Harry shifted where he sat and ignored the look he got from Ron, who was taking notice. “Why?”

Draco looked down his body at the brunet. “Imagine, Potter,” he began as if he was explaining something simple to a toddler. “I’m a servant of the Dark Lord. He finds out from Theo that I’m carrying your child.” He paused, thinking the boy had worked it out.

Harry stared.

Draco rolled his eyes and sat up. “He would have to ability to call me any time, from anywhere. He then could either kill me, or worse.”

“What is it with people and priorities?” Ron said quietly and then shrank back at the glare from Hermione and Blaise. “Sorry,” he stated and shut up.

“What could be-”

“Oh my-” Draco exclaimed, unable to believe what he was hearing. “You really need me to spell it out to you, Potter?” he asked incredulous. “You have the dreams. You should know what he’s capable of. I would beg for death by the time he’s done with me. Unless he keeps me preserved until it’s time to rip out your kid.”

Harry blanched and swallowed heavily around the lump in his throat. He really didn’t need to think about something like that. “Sorry.”

“You should be.” He shook his head and looked away. “Just get out, all of you.” Pansy gave a small gasp and he took hold of her arm. “Not you, just them.” He fell back again. “I’d really just rather be around my friends right now.” He shut his eyes and flung his arm over them.

Though Harry took a while to move, Hermione finally got the two boys to leave. “You’ve been excused from morning classes,” Blaise said dropping a note on his chest as the door closed. Draco took it up and looked at it. It was signed by Dumbledore. He looked up at Blaise, who smiled. “But you have to go to History of Magic this afternoon.”

“I love you,” Draco said without moving.

Blaise shrugged. “I figured you needed a nap.”

He did need a nap. _And_ it was before lunch. Sleep, then food, and then more sleep? “Would it be okay if I cried my love all over you?” Draco said, putting the note down and looking up at him.

Blaise stepped back. “No-”

Draco shook his head. “Too late,” he said and jumped him.

Standing outside on the Charms corridor was proving to be taxing. The Gyffindors were staring at him with a mixture of awe and curiosity. They were all trying to hide their stares, but, being Gryffindors, they weren’t doing it very well. The Slytherins were simply staring openly at his abdomen, as if whatever was inside was about to burst out and eat them. Draco wasn’t sure which was worse: caution or adoration.

“Well, hello, Malfoy.” Draco rolled his eyes heavenward. _Really, Merlin? My curiosity was rhetorical._ He turned around, Blaise at his side and Pansy at the other. Blair Murdoch, a seventh year Slytherin who had been held back in sixth year charms because he failed the course. He’d sneered at Draco ever since he’d arrived at the school. He couldn’t wait for the prick to graduate so he could finally leave him alone.

“What, Murdoch?” he said, irritated already. If Potter wasn’t the bane of his existence, this guy would pick up the slack.

Blair glanced at the two Slytherin sidekicks Malfoy always had with him before glaring at the blond. “Still surrounded by cronies, I see. Seems you’re still the same whether you’re a Slytherin or a Gryffindor.” He smiled after his insult.

Despite himself, Draco took the bait. “Gryffindor? Do you see me in a Gryffindor robe, Murdoch?”

Blair Murdoch gave him a knowing smile. “Still got a little of Gryffindor in you, though, eh?” he said with pity, poking his finger into Draco’s abdomen. Draco felt a weight settle there and instantly wondered what Murdoch had done. His face went from irritated to angry in seconds.

He glared. “Don’t _touch_ me.”

Murdoch snickered. “Why? You only allowed to be touched by the saviour?” His amused expression turned stony, the transformation seamless. He stepped even closer and Draco stepped back. Murdoch’s own entourage stepped forward, cordoning him off from Blaise and Pansy. Draco stopped when the wall hindered him from moving anymore. “What makes you so special?” Murdoch said quietly with a deadly intonation. He stepped into Draco’s personal space and glared harder. “What makes you so damn special that you get special treatment? A baby?” He snorted. “Big deal, you _witches_ have them all the time.”

Draco understood his underlying meaning, and given the ridiculing look in Murdoch’s eyes, the bastard knew he’d hit a mark. The weight got heavier and Draco frowned looking down and putting his hand over it. It felt tangible, like he could almost scoop it off and throw it down. When he ran his hand over the area, it was warm. _What the hell_?

Murdoch read the expression incorrectly. “What’s wrong, Draco, going to cry like the little witch you are?”

“Wow.”

Murdoch turned around, startled by another presence and his eyes widened a fraction at seeing Harry Potter standing there. “What do you want, Potter?”

“Why is it, the only insult you people have is to call him a girl?” He shrugged. “Last I checked, Draco was all male.”

Murdoch sneered. “You would know.”

Harry appeared unaffected. The main reason why Slytherins had stopped messing with him was because he didn’t react. Harry turned his gaze to Draco, against the wall. _Well, most of them, anyway._ “So what if I do? It still proves he’s a guy. More manly than you are, since you have to pick on someone that’s pregnant for some vindication.”

Draco shot him a withering glare, though he was both surprised and impressed by Potter’s use of long words. He was disconcerted to find the weight rising to his chest. “Potter, I can fight my own battles.”

Murdoch maintained his sneer. “Yes, Potter, darling, let your wife fight her own battles,” he said and subsequently grabbed Draco by the neck. Harry rushed forward, but before he had a chance to do anything, something stopped him, pushing him back. He frowned. It felt like the spell used in his training sessions. He felt around as he’d been taught to do, seeking out where the spell was coming from. It was easier this time. It felt a little like his signature, but it was different... Then something occurred to him. _No, way_. His eyes rose from his person to Draco, who was yelling at Murdoch.

Draco squeezed his eyes shut, struggling against the grip on his neck. The weight on his chest and the hand squeezing his throat made it difficult to breathe. “Get off me!” he finally yelled and felt the huge weight that had settled on his chest spread to his arms before it released through his hands in a bright purple flash. He opened his eyes to gasps and screams. The group of Slytherins stood either side of him, forming a pathway of sorts. Murdoch was on the ground across the corridor. He’d obviously landed there after hitting the wall. Draco turned to Harry, who put up his hands in surrender.

“Wasn’t me. You said you wanted to fight your own battles.” He was frowning though, as if he didn’t understand what had happened.

Draco knew it wasn’t Harry. He could still feel the tingles in his fingers, the weightlessness in his abdomen. He’d used wandless magic. He hadn’t been able to do that before, but he’d seen Potter do it a few times. “Holy fucking Merlin.” He looked at his hands. They had a slight purplish glow to them, but the tint was fading. He then shifted his gaze down to his stomach. Finally, his eyes landed on Harry. “What the _fuck_ did you impregnate me with?”

Draco was getting sick of the Hospital Wing. Professor Flitwick had come outside to see the chaos that was the aftermath of Murdoch’s humiliation. Throughout his class, the students had been distracted. The Gryffindors seemed happy and the Slytherins looked murderous. For that reason alone, Draco felt the tiny man had given them theory exercises instead of the practical they’d been expecting.

At least, the Slytherins had been hoping for it, Murdoch especially.

Once the class was done, he’d kept Draco back and, upon hearing what had happened, had sentenced the blond to a round of tests. Draco was disgruntled to find out all the teachers now knew of his condition. A group of five waited for them outside and, after rolling his eyes, Flitwick escorted the lot of them to the Infirmary.

Draco sat, deflated, bored, and seriously in need of some food. He’d already missed lunch and his last two classes of the day. It was time for dinner and everyone but Potter – he’d refused to leave, even after the threat of detention – had left because Madam Pomfrey told them to stop crowding her Infirmary.

“There seems to be an energy here.” The Medi-witch was frowning as she analysed her findings. “I-” Her hand lowered to touch Draco’s abdomen and she received a spark that shocked her finger. “Oh!” she exclaimed snatching it back and shaking out the sting.

“What the-”

“It seems he doesn’t want you touched, dear.”

Draco’d had enough of this child. It wasn’t even born yet and it was causing him grief. “What?” he asked tiredly.

She smiled at him. “He’s just fine.” She stood and put away the stool she’d been sitting on. “It seems you have yourself a Gryffindor in Slytherin clothing.” She grinned at her own joke.

Draco didn’t appreciate the joke. He leaned forward and propped his elbows up on his knees, resting his head in his hands. “What?” he said again.

“Self preservation is very misunderstood, Mr Malfoy.” Behind his hands, Draco rolled his eyes. Dumbledore. As if his evening needed to be any more confusing. “I believe what Poppy means is your child is very protective of you, while maintaining his own life in the interim.” He looked up at Harry. “Quite the child you have, Harry.”

Harry blushed, glad Draco wasn’t looking. “Why are you here, Professor?”

“I came to see how you were faring after that very strong burst of magic. I felt it from my office. When Professor Snape came to tell me what had happened, I had to come and see for myself. May I?” he asked the blond, who’d gradually removed his hands to show his face.

Draco shook his head and then held his arms open wide, effectively allowing the old man access. He sighed. “What the hell.”

Dumbledore let his hand hover close to Draco’s abdomen. It was all he needed. The sharp shock hit him square in the palm and he jumped back in reflex. “Amazing,” he said with a smile, as if he hadn’t just been hit with a high powered Revulsion Jinx. “Have you performed a lot of Revulsion Jinxes in your time, Draco?”

Draco hadn’t been expecting that question. “I have. I was thinking of it when Murdoch-” He paused.

“When Murdoch attacked him,” Harry finished, knowing that, outcast or not, Draco didn’t want to be a rat. “Fully knowing that he was pregnant,” he added for good measure. “In fact, it’s what instigated it.”

Draco eyed him. “Thank you, Potter,” he said sarcastically.

Harry eyed him back. “You’re welcome, Malfoy,” he returned in kind.

Dumbledore’s gaze switched between them in the exchange. “Harry, my boy. Would you mind if I performed an experiment?” he asked him.

Harry shrugged. “What kind of experiment?”

“Just something I’m curious about.” When Harry shrugged again, Dumbledore leaned over to grasp one of his hands, bringing it – and by default, Harry too – with him as he straightened. He directed the hand to Draco’s abdomen. Harry flinched as Albus paused centimetres away from Draco’s school jumper. He opened his eyes, unaware he’d closed them, to see Draco staring down at his hand in confusion. Harry didn’t blame him. As if to prove a point, Albus then forced Harry’s hand to touch Draco’s stomach. Still nothing. Draco gasped though. “I thought so.” He let go of Harry’s hands and stood up to talk to Poppy, who’d moved away to sort through some documents on her desk.

A little embarrassed he’d not moved his hand when Dumbledore left, Harry awkwardly shifted away. He stopped, though, when Draco grabbed it and planted it flat against his stomach again.

“No, wait,” he said. His eyes were closed and a small frown marred his brow. After a while, a smile formed on his face. Harry stared at the expression, never having seen it before on Draco’s face. “Do you feel that?” he asked with his eyes closed.

Harry, for a second, couldn’t feel anything but his heart hammering away in his ribcage. He swallowed heavily. “What?”

The small frown returned. “I don’t feel sick.”

Harry was confused. “How am I supposed to feel that?”

Draco opened his eyes and then rolled them. “Oh, don’t be stupid, Potter.” He shoved away his hand, though it seemed as if he really didn’t want to. “I meant the magic. It rose when Dumbledore put your hand on me.”

 _When you put my hand on you_. And damn it, his hand was tingling now. He shook it off behind his back. As he did, Draco’s stomach growled. “Hungry?” he said with a laugh.

Draco gave him an obvious look. “What do you think?”

Harry turned around and walked up to Poppy. Draco watched him converse with her before walking back over. Harry picked up his bag and then, to Draco’s surprise, picked up Draco’s as well. “Come on. It’s time for dinner.”

Draco looked down at his watch. “We just missed dinner.”

Harry turned to him. “Oh. Ye of little faith.”

Draco simply stared at him. “Fortunately, Potter, with you I’ve never had the misfortune to gain any.”

Harry stared back as he held out the door and began leading Draco to the ground floor. “I’m going to have to change that then.”

Draco snorted as he walked with him. “Good luck. Changing first impressions are difficult, and yours was terrible.”

“How so?”

Draco cocked an eyebrow. They were walking down the two flights of steps that led to the marble staircase. He waited until they were clear of those and paused. “You really want me to reiterate how we first met? Because the memory may cause me to hit you.”

Harry stared. The blond was serious. “I made you that angry in the robe shop?”

Draco frowned. “Robe shop?”

Harry crossed the large, tiled entrance hall, passing students from all the Houses and took the stairs that led down to the Hufflepuff common room. Draco walked forward cautiously. Harry paused. “We’re just going to the kitchen.” He noticed Draco was looking around at some of the Slytherins that were heading down the other flight of stairs to their dorm. Harry stepped up to him, making him jump when he spoke in his ear. “They wouldn’t dare, Malfoy. Not after your progeny protected you so fiercely.” Draco turned to him in surprise. “Yeah. You keep calling it my kid, but you’re forgetting that you’re the one carrying it.” Harry turned around, walking down the steps and towards a tapestry with elves running around a pasture. He pulled it back. Draco walked into the short corridor revealed, surprised, since he’d never thought there was anything behind those tapestries before. When they reached the portrait of the giant fruit bowl, Harry leaned forward and tickled the pear. It giggled, squirming, and then turned into a large door handle. Harry grabbed it and pulled the door open. Harry stared at Draco. “After you.”

Draco walked in, his mouth open. Food. There was so much food. There were large platters of mashed potatoes and next to them stood a pitcher of gravy. On another table there were bowls of cooked vegetables. He thought he was going to cry when he saw the last table of desserts. His hands were shaking. Around him, an army of elves paused what they were doing and turned to them, their eyes wide.

 _Okay,_ he thought to himself. _Potter, you’re not so bad._

Draco rethought his declaration when the boy sat opposite him in the library a week later. When he looked up, Harry smiled at him. Draco cocked an eyebrow and then went back to his essay. _Merlin, one dinner and I’ve got a puppy._ “What, Potter?”

In response, he was gifted with a plate. On it was a sandwich. Next to it was a glass of pumpkin juice. Draco’s eyes widened. “What are you doing?” he said and pushed them away. His eyes cast around the area for Madam Pince. “Food isn’t allowed in here. If Pince catches you, we’ll get thrown out.” He became solemn. “You will not like me if I get thrown out of here, Potter.”

Harry shook his head and pushed them back. “ _Other people_ can’t eat in here.” He pulled out a slip of parchment with the school logo on it and placed it on Draco’s essay. The school stamp was embossed at the bottom. It was a pass, written by _‘Albus Percival Wulfrick Brian Dumbledore’_ allowing him to _‘consume any and all consumables he deems worthy in any room of the castle.’_ Draco stared at it some more, not sure if he was really seeing it correctly. He pushed some hair away from his face and read it through again.

“Holy shit.” He looked up at Harry, stunned. “Where did you get this?”

Harry shrugged and pushed the food and drink closer to him. “Last week, when you were in the Hospital Wing, you had to sit there starving because you aren’t allowed to eat in that part of the ward. You kinda scared the elves with your... _enthusiasm_ in the kitchens.” He smirked. “Then yesterday you were complaining that you couldn’t take your sandwich into your Arithmancy class. This way you don’t have to fast between each meal. It’s just easier.”

Draco’s mouth wouldn’t close. “Why did you do this?” he asked, putting the pass down. Harry sat up straight, caught off guard by the question. “Why are you doing any of this?” he elaborated since Harry wasn’t getting it. “The–food passes, the cups of tea, taking me to your secret kitchen entrance, standing up for me to Murdoch?” He shook his head, not understanding. “Setting me up in your Red Tower.” He stared. “What are you hoping to gain?”

Harry frowned. “I’m not after anything. Not everyone has an agenda.”

Draco cocked an eyebrow. “Yes they do. You’re just too naive to believe it, and too under experienced to understand you have one.” Draco was sorry for his naivety, he honestly was.

Harry sighed. This was not how he wanted this to go. “Forget it. I was just trying to be nice.”

“I don’t need you to be nice, Potter.” He laughed emptily. “I don’t want _anything_ from you. Except for you to leave me alone.”

Harry stood. “Fine, I’ll leave you alone.” He walked away, leaving the food on the table. “Just leave it when you’re done,” he said turning around and walking backwards. “The elves said they’d send someone to pick it up.”

Draco watched him go, a lump forming in his throat. The boy looked like he’d kicked him in the gut and, somehow, kicking him there didn’t make him as angry as breaking his nose. In fact, it made him more morose. Gryffindors were odd.

And guilt-inducing. Draco stared at the sandwich. He lifted one corner of the top slice and cursed. The guilt intensified. _Damn it_. Potter had even melted the chocolate into spread and layered it with crumbled cashews and sliced almonds. It was a carbon copy of the sandwich he’d made to go back to the tower with last week, down to the halves of the bread. Draco only liked the top crust, and the halves in front of him were made up of the top halves of two sandwiches. _He made two sandwiches for me_. His gaze went back to the door. He felt like shit now. _Fucking Gryffindors._ If Blaise was with him, he’d make him apologise. Hell, even _he_ wanted to apologise.

Draco closed his textbook. He’d better get back to the Tower anyway. He stood, gathering his things. The last thing he put in his bag was the food pass. He read through it again and folded it. _Is there anything this guy can’t do?_ Instead of shoving it in his bag, he put it in his trouser pocket. He bit his lip as he eyed the sandwich, deciding to take it with him and leave the juice. He had juice in his room. He could just drink some there. He walked away, taking one last look at the table he’d been sitting at to see the table was bare. He shook his head and left the library.

“Hey!”

Turning, Draco came face to face with a Ravenclaw he’d never met before. He didn’t share any classes with them except for the Advanced Potions class, and even then there were only two. The only place he came into contact with them outside of that was during Quidditch games and, since he’d been banned from playing now with his ‘condition’, he wouldn’t be casually meeting any of them soon.

“What?” he asked.

The boy blushed and Draco cocked an eyebrow. _Shyness? After you called on me? Please._ He turned away, heading to the stairs, preparing himself to climb three flights of stairs to the Gryffindor portrait hole. No wonder they all looked so fit, they climbed mountains on a daily basis.

“No, wait.” The Ravenclaw rounded him. Potter did that too. It drove him insane. Obviously the Ravenclaw had figured that out too. “Sorry, it’s just. I don’t do this often.”

“What? Stumble over words as you talk to strangers?” Draco asked. “Me either. Don’t make a habit out of it.” He walked away again saying, “It’s a dangerous character flaw to have.”

“Are you doing anything on Saturday?” It sounded like it had been rushed out. It sounded like he was trying to stop Draco from walking away.

It worked. “ _What?_ ” he asked. He didn’t need to act surprised. It was written all over his face. The, as of yet unnamed, Ravenclaw walked the short distance Draco had managed to put between them. “You’re asking me out?” The Ravenclaw nodded. “Why?”

Draco then witnessed a phenomenon not many got to see, a Ravenclaw that didn’t know an answer. At that non-response, Draco snorted and walked away.

It seemed he was only able to answer if Draco wasn’t looking at him. Didn’t prove to be a positive decision so far. “I like you!” When Draco turned, the boy looked mortified. “I just – I didn’t know how to approach you and until...”

Draco waited. “Until...?” He frowned. “Until the school found out I’m having Potter’s baby? Is that it? You thought, ‘ _He must be approachable if he’s spreading his legs for the Saviour?_ ”

The Ravenclaw opened his eyes wide. “No! I didn’t-”

“Oh, fuck you.”

The Ravenclaw grabbed his arm. Draco nearly lost his balance until he got shoved away. He stood watching the Ravenclaw wriggling in pain. He cocked his head. Then he smiled. Pansy called it the _Pin Cushion_ curse. She’d used that one against Vince once when he’d got a little too grabby.

He only realised one of his hands were drifting across his abdomen when he looked down to smile. This kid was alright.

When he got to his dorm room and filled Blaise in on what had happened, Blaise watched him in surprise. “He was hit with a Pin Cushion curse? How?”

Draco shook his head. “I don’t know. I guess the situation reminded me of when Vince asked Pansy on a date and she turned him down. She uses that on a lot of guys.” He shrugged and took another bite of his sandwich.

Blaise pondered on how Draco was channelling the baby’s magic as Draco devoured that horrible sandwich. He’d never understand how he was able to eat chocolate in bread, it wasn’t normal.

“Oh, fuck me.” Blaise looked over in alarm to see that Draco had polished off the sandwich and was sitting down staring straight ahead. Suddenly the blond’s face crumpled and he lay back on his bed with his hands over his face.

“What? What is it?”

Draco uncovered his face and stared up at the canopy over his bed. “I just realised, no one can touch me without being shocked, except for Potter. Pansy hasn’t been able to hug me, even, since Murdoch attacked me in the Charms corridor.” He looked down his body to Blaise who was waiting for the conclusion of this rant. “I’m not going to get laid, at all, while I’m like this.” He collapsed backwards, heavily, on his bed. “Fuck!”

Blaise smiled to himself. “Unless you get laid by Potter.”

“Don’t even joke about this Blaise. I swear, I will hurt you,” Draco growled.

Blaise raised his hands in surrender.

Potter kept his promise. Even coming up to Christmas, he kept his distance. Draco was happy to find that after a while, the kid inside him had let his guard down. He still shocked Pansy or Blaise after he’d been startled, but, on the whole, the shock was less charged than it had been before. Draco was glad. He thrived off contact. Pansy’s hugs were wonderful after a hard day. They were even better after she’d moved into the girls’ dorm up the other set of stairs leading from the Gryffindor common room. Dumbledore had moved her after a rather unfortunate incident that involved Pansy, Theodore Nott and a statue of the Giant Squid. Draco didn’t ask. Pansy didn’t tell. She’d been moved, according to her, to keep Nott safe from her, not the other way around.

The Ravenclaw didn’t come near him again; neither did a lot of people.

Draco spent a lot of time tied up in his studies, as he’d missed quite a few classes in November. The end of term tests weren’t that bad though. He’d managed to catch up by borrowing Blaise’s detailed notes. He’d somehow learned to colour code – Draco suspected Granger of this travesty – as the boy had spent a lot of time downstairs during Draco’s mood swings, which resulted in him spending more time among the Gryffindors, especially Granger, who Draco had learned was a female Gryffindor version of Blaise on a ‘Oh my god I forgot to study for the mid-term exam’ day. Draco cringed at the thought. How the hell did Potter and Weasley cope?

Speaking of Weasley, Draco had also noticed Blaise staring at the boy a lot. It was odd. He’d rather not think about it. But if he didn’t, that meant he had to think of Potter, someone he’d spent a lot of time thinking about after he’d stopped going out of his way to accommodate him.

Draco almost couldn’t believe he missed it. The cups of tea, the food passes, the carrying of his bag. Hell, he even missed the private dinner in the kitchen.

Speaking of food.

Draco got up and left the room, leaving Blaise and Pansy sleeping in Blaise’s bed. Careful not to wake them, he snuck out quietly. Pansy had pretty much moved in since she spent all her time there anyway, sleeping in Blaise’s bed because she’d been shocked the first night she’d slept in Draco’s. Besides it was Christmas vacation, it’s not like it mattered. He walked downstairs, exiting the common room. There was no one there except Neville Longbottom. Only a handful of Gryffindors stayed in school for Christmas vacation, he’d learned. Even Weasley went home. Draco felt his absence keenly because, suddenly, Blaise was moping. They’d all stayed for various reasons. Pansy wanted to escape her mother, though felt guilty for subjecting her sister to the pain of Christmas without her. Draco had received mail from his mother telling him in no uncertain terms that he was probably safer at school. Blaise, Draco was beginning to suspect, was staying in case Weasley came back. It was either that, or he was escaping his mother too. He had to get better proof though. Not of his sanity, Draco was sure he’d already lost that.

He shook his head at his friend as he made it to the hallway. Now all he had to do was go down seven flights of stairs. “Shit.” He hadn’t thought this through. He ran his hand over his abdomen. He was hungry though. It was after eleven. Dinner was long over so he wouldn’t get anything for another eight hours. “Fuck it.” He began descending the stairs. “One flight at a time, Draco. One flight at a time.”

The kitchens were an awesome discovery, Draco admitted when he was sitting down at a bench and being waited on by two different elves who wanted to give Draco everything in his sight. Dobby, his family’s former house elf was one of them. He’d missed the little thing. Though he looked decidedly different to the Dobby he remembered. This one was covered in a myriad of hats, scarves, miniature Christmas jumpers, and socks. A lot of socks. He even had socks on his ears.

Dobby even told him that the next time he wanted food he just had to call him. “Fantastic.”

He was still given a platter to take along though. He was told that Dobby could deliver it to his room. Draco sagged in relief. He wanted the food, he just didn’t want to carry it and with the no magic in the corridors rule, he was stumped on how he would manage it. When the platter disappeared, he turned to Dobby with a smile. It could have been the hormones, but he thanked the elf anyway. He declined the ‘lift’ to his dorm. He’d made it down and he was proud, so he was going to try and get back up by himself too. Plus, he’d eaten so much, his previous, non-pregnant self, was telling him he needed to work off some of the food he’d scoffed down. It was sad, but true.

Stepping out past the tapestry, he walked up to the entrance hall and crossed it to the marble staircase. “One flight at a time, Draco, one flight at a time,” he told himself quietly, as he eyed the stairs.

He was still on the west side of the castle, coming up to the second floor, when he heard his name. He spun around and cursed. “Hello, Ravenclaw.” The same boy who’d tried to ask him out in at the beginning of December was walking up to him, his hands in his pockets.

“Hi,” the boy said to him.

“Ever a man of words,” Draco replied and continued his climb. He made it to the corridor leading to the north of the castle when his elbow was tugged on. He looked down and back up at the perpetrator.

“I saw that Zabini could do that lately. So you’re not shocking people anymore. Good. It’s not a nice way to make friends.”

Draco disregarded his shock at the most dialogue he’d ever heard from the boy. However, shy or not, Draco would castrate him if he touched him again. “Look, I get that you think you like me. Merlin knows why, but I’m not interested. I’m not even gay.” The boy looked at his abdomen and he covered it with his hand. He began, once more, his journey along the corridor. “This is different.”

“How?” Ever the Ravenclaw searching for answers.

Draco didn’t care. “It just is.” Curious. He really could answer why, but something was stopping him from telling the boy about the potion.

Ravenclaw cocked his head, his eyes searching. Draco stepped back once. “You love him.”

Both of Draco’s eyebrows lifted. “Excuse you?” he said backing away even more. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe, but I’m not the one sleeping with men when I’m not gay and taking potions to have babies with guys I don’t even love.” He stepped closer for every step Draco took away. “What, did you change your mind? Did he lose interest?” Draco recognised a mocking look in the Ravenclaw’s eyes when he spoke now. “I’ve noticed he isn’t hanging off you anymore. Is that his fault or yours?” He stepped forward again. “Did you decide to keep it because you get a shortcut to an heir? Why is it different? What makes him so different from me?”

Draco frowned. That mocking look was turning into mania. _What the hell is wrong with him?_

“Draco!”

Both of them turned and Draco felt a wave of relief at Harry Potter’s presence. Behind him, he could hear a scoff. “Whatever. Later, Malfoy.” Those dark brown eyes sealed his promise and he walked away, back to the west tower.

Draco took in a deep breath and exhaled it shakily as Harry walked up to him. “What happened?” Draco shook his head. He honestly didn’t know and that fact was creeping him out. “Are you okay?” He shook his head again. For some reason, he didn’t even trust himself to speak. “Here.” His elbow was taken gently and he was steered backwards to lean on a wall. Once he was there, Harry backed away again, giving him some space. Draco exhaled shakily again, letting loose some angst-ridden laughter. He sounded a little hysterical. “What did he do?” he was asked. Suddenly he was handed a jumper. He looked up to see Harry in a t-shirt. “You’re shivering. Put it on.” Draco held it in his hand for a moment, feeling the warmth radiating from it. Craving it, he slipped it over his head.

Calm.

He basked in it for a moment and took a deep breath. When Harry repeated his question, Draco felt he had to answer it. Feeling more anchored now than before, Draco shook his head. “He didn’t do anything, he just talked.” The reminder had him shaking again. He fisted his hands in an effort to stop them from shaking. Why was he trembling? That Ravenclaw was hardly dangerous. “That look in his eyes, though.” He shuddered and stood up straight, unaware that he’d bent over. He frowned. “Did you know I was here?”

Harry shrugged. “Blaise woke up and came to find me all hysterical and babbling.” He crossed his arms over his chest and looked away. “He sent me after you, since he had to keep Pansy with him. Something about Pin Cushions-?” He shook his head. “Whatever. He sent me after you, so don’t worry, I’m not willingly breaking my promise.”

“How did you know to come here?”

“I went back to your room to find out if you’d left a clue. Then a platter of food appeared on your bed. I figured you’d gone for a run to the kitchens. Blaise was still worried, though, told me to find you and not come back until I had. I listened, for some reason.” It could have been the look Pansy had given him. He shuddered as he thought about it.

Right now, Draco didn’t care. In fact he was glad. He didn’t want to be in that situation again. Harry walked with him back to the Tower, coaching him up the remaining five flights to the Gryffindor entrance. The residual adrenaline in his system from his encounter allowed him to do it all without having to catch his breath, so he was glad for that.

They entered the portrait hole and immediately climbed the stairs to the Senior’s Corridor. Draco took off the jumper Harry had given him. His hand brushed the Gryffindor’s when he handed it back and, just like in the Hospital Wing last month, something stirred in his stomach.

“Good night,” Harry said and went inside his room, closing the door softly behind him.

Draco swallowed hard and walked up the next flight to the Prefect and Head Boy rooms. Before he opened the door, he froze and looked down. “Fuck, you’re kidding me.” He sighed and rested his head against the door. Calming himself down enough to enter, he opened the door.

Blaise’s gaze snapped to the door when Draco came through it and plastered his back to the wood. Pansy stood up and planted her hands on her hips. “Where the hell have you been?” Blaise asked, checking his clock and glancing back to the blond. He frowned.

Draco had such a perplexed expression on his face that Blaise was almost worried. Almost. “I... I just got _saved_ by Harry Potter.”

Blaise cocked an eyebrow. “Again?”

Instead of a verbal retort that was equally scathing, Draco simply nodded. “And... I’m more turned on than I have _ever_ been.” His hands ran down his thighs a few times as he looked around the room. He grabbed his towel. “I’m going for a wank,” he said and left the room, heading for the showers.

Pansy and Blaise shared a look. Pansy fished out her money bag as Blaise called out. “Have fun! And don’t use my shower gel, it’s imported!” He gladly accepted the three galleons she placed in his hand.

By the next term, Draco’s eyes were, for some reason, following Harry everywhere. He’d sit down to do his homework and, as soon as the Gryffindor walked in, he would be thoroughly distracted. He’d end up having to take his things upstairs. He’d be reading in the library and a thought of the boy would have his mind going off on a tangent for half an hour. And at night, the _dreams_...

Draco’s lips pulled up into an obligatory smile at the cup of tea that was placed in front of him. This was another thing. Since the North-West Corridor Incident, as Draco had taken to calling it, Potter had started back on his doting routine. Fortunately, it came in small measures now, instead of huge gestures that showcased his whopping guilt. He looked up. It was nearly impossible to look Harry in the eye after the graphic sex dreams he’d been having about him for the last week. One had brought him to full wakefulness, belting out Harry’s name as his body convulsed in orgasm. The shitty part was, he couldn’t exactly _avoid_ him. He fingered his quill, avoiding the brunet’s gaze and staring instead at the wood of the long desk in the Gryffindor common room in thought. Finding another man attractive made Draco gay, he supposed. Finding Harry Potter attractive, made it complicated. It also made him delusional. Potter, after all, was as straight as Draco had once thought himself to be.

“No fuck off?” Harry quipped. Draco gave him a ‘don’t push your luck’ stare. Harry acquiesced and nodded once. “Promising.” He smiled and walked away. Draco fought the smile that wanted to appear on his face. He fought it, stomped on it and threw it away. _Just shut up and drink your tea, Draco._ It did actually help with the sickness. He actually took some in a flask he’d charmed to keep hot. He didn’t know what went into it, but it was amazing.

He’d had a check up earlier with Madam Pomfrey, Potter in tow, as per usual, and they’d found out they were having a boy. He’d written his father as soon as he’d gotten back before tackling his homework. The reply from his mother was next to his cup, expressing in no uncertain terms that another party would have to be arranged. Apparently, his father couldn’t stop breaking out into grins and his mother told him to thank Potter repeatedly for making such a foolish, yet worthwhile, mistake. He folded it back into the small square it had arrived in. He was done with his homework now, so he gathered his things, and his tea, and made his way upstairs, taking care to salute the brunet with his cup as he passed him and Weasley in a deep discussion with the Quidditch team about their next match.

He was walking past the sixth year dorm when he noticed the door was open. Naturally, he glanced in as he passed, but paused when he realised that Blaise was sitting on one of the beds being stared at by the other sixth year boys.

“Blaise,” he ventured cautiously. “What are you doing?” He eyed Dean, Seamus and Neville. They sat staring at Blaise suspiciously. Dean most of all.

Blaise turned to him, a bright smile on his face at seeing Draco walk inside with his books in his hand and his ‘anti-nausea’ tea in the other. “I’m tormenting.”

Draco frowned. The boys opposite him didn’t look tormented. Just angry. “Who?”

Nonetheless, Blaise pointed at them. “Them.” Draco looked across to see Dean, Seamus and Neville hadn’t moved. They still didn’t look tormented, though Seamus was looking a little bored of it all.

“How, exactly?” he asked.

“By simply being. It’s fun.” Draco saw a tick by Dean’s right eye. He got that winding people up was fun sometimes, but he didn’t understand why they were so riled because Blaise was sitting on someone’s bed. However, they didn’t seem to be moving, which meant they didn’t trust Blaise being in the room alone. _Oh, that made sense. But still, Blaise must have been up here for a while and that_ didn’t _make sense_.

“Okay,” he said. “And why are you really here?”

Without missing a beat, Blaise answered him. “Weasley wanted to see me.”

Draco’s eyebrows rose to his hairline. “Weasley’s in the common room talking to Potter,” he informed him.

His roommate nodded. “Yeah, I know. I came up here to wait.”

“And why does he want to see you?” Draco asked curious beyond belief now. What on earth could Weasley have to say to Blaise that would cause his friend to _wait_ when he could be reading a textbook on something Draco didn’t care about?

Blaise gave an elegant shrug of his shoulders. “I’m sure if I knew I wouldn’t be here. It’s probably tedious.”

“Ah, ha,” Draco said slowly. He walked up to Blaise and sat on the nearest bed to Blaise. He noticed the Gryffindors react to him sitting down but he didn’t get it. It was just a bed. He turned when he heard Seamus giggle. “That’s rather unmanly. How amusing.”

“Tell you what’s amusing, Malfoy,” Finnigan said to him. “You choosing Harry’s bed out of all those here.”

Before Draco had a chance to react, let alone _move_ , the dorm room door opened and Ron and Harry walked in. Ron kept on walking but Harry froze at seeing Draco on his bed. “Er. Why are you on my bed?”

Draco stood up immediately, ignoring another one of Finnigan’s giggles. “It’s not what it looks like.”

“Yes it is,” Blaise said leaning back on the bed he was on, that happened to be Ron’s. “Him choosing your bed shows he’s hot for you and that quick explanation he just gave you means he’s guilty.” Ron rolled his eyes.

“Ignore him Harry.” He turned to Blaise. “Off.” Ron pulled his pillow from behind Blaise’s head and hit him with it.

“No need for violence, Weasley.” He sat up.

“OFF!” He hit him again.

“Alright, I’m getting off.” He smirked.

Harry swore he saw a blush creep up Ron’s neck behind his t shirt. But he was angry, so... “Why are you here?” Ron said as if the very notion of them being in their dorm room was ridiculous.

Draco frowned. “You wanted to talk to him,” Finnigan answered for him.

Ron frowned at Seamus. “No I didn’t.”

Draco turned to Blaise. “He didn’t?”

Blaise gave a one shoulder shrug. “No,” he said without a care in the world.

“Then why are we in here?” Draco asked as if he was asking the purpose of the universe.

“I told you. I’m tormenting.”

Dean when several shades of angry before he began to yell. “We’ve been sitting here for an hour with you staring at us for nothing?!”

Blaise shrugged again. “Not nothing. I was very entertained.”

Dean stood up and pointed to the door. “Out! Both of you!”

Blaise was snickering as he left. “Bye, Weasley,” he said and waved with his fingers as he left. Ron went red and averted his eyes. Draco looked between them and heard Potter ask Ron what that was all about as they left. He couldn’t help but think that was a good question.

Paired assignments were murder, Draco decided. Paired assignments were murder and Slughorn was an evil, _evil_ bastard. It was March, now, and Draco was well into his second trimester, according to Madam Pomfrey. He was hungry all the time, tired all the time, angry all the time, he was starting to show and, for some reason, Potter was undressing.

His monologue screeched to an almighty halt. “What the fuck are you doing?” he exclaimed shielding his eyes.

Harry paused from taking off his t-shirt. “Back to expletives? What did I do?” he asked and gave Draco a quizzical look. “Why are you covering your eyes?” he asked, bemused.

Draco bit his lip. In the budding friendship they’d begun over this pregnancy, Har- _Potter_ had informed him that he swore a lot. He then said it was bad for the baby, which Draco thought was bullshit, but then he didn’t know a lot about babies and Potter had been around them before, or so he said, so he’d chosen to believe him. “Why are you undressing?” he countered instead. Harry looked down at his t-shirt. It was covered in the potion that Draco had just made with him for their project. Draco refused to give into the obvious look Harry was giving him.

Draco had done the note taking this time, per Harry’s request, and directed Harry on what to put in, at what time and how to stir. Thing is, his attention had been focused on Harry’s mouth as he silently repeated the instructions Draco stated to make sure he was doing it right, the small frown that marred his brow as he concentrated... it was so distracting that Draco hadn’t been paying attention when Harry started calling out warning signs. He’d stirred it once too many times and it began to froth and bubble. Some of it splashed onto his shirt, over his stomach and he’d stood up to take it off.

As Draco watched him, he noticed Harry was actually standing tilted forward so the heavy, wet material would hang away from his skin. That was a good choice, who knew what they’d created instead and their last set of consequences from a misbrewed potion hadn’t been a short term fix. He nodded and looked away as Harry once again grabbed at the hem of his t- shirt to strip it off. Draco was wearing his pyjamas, his dressing robe over it, as he’d been getting ready for bed when Harry had suggested trying out the potion tonight and getting the weekend free. The brunet had come up to him after being absent all day, looking a little detached and playing with a locket in his hands. It was obvious he was looking for a distraction. Draco had tried asking about it, but all he got was that Harry’d been out with Dumbledore. He’d stopped talking after that, save for their Potions assignment. Draco figured something bad must have happened. He’d agreed and directed Harry to shower first, because he smelt like he’d been in a fire.

He was flushed pink, he just knew it. He busied himself cleaning up the station they’d created in the middle of the sixth year dorm room. Problem was, by the time he was done, Harry was now walking to the door with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist.

He couldn’t breathe.

Harry opened the door. “I think we should reschedule for another time. This stuff is beginning to itch, so I’m taking another shower.”

Before he could say anything, he heard a scream come from downstairs. He got up and went to the door where Harry was standing. “What was that?” Harry asked him.

Flushing pink again, he said, “It sounds like Pansy.” As Harry moved towards the common room, Draco held him back with a hand on his shoulder, already feeling the stirring in his abdomen as magic swirled to life. He’d never get used to that. “Stand down, boy hero. It’s her excited scream, not her terror scream. This is my field. Go shower before your stomach melts away.” It would be a shame. It was a _nice_ stomach.

 _Leave it alone, Draco_ , his mind helpfully supplied, though it uselessly left out how he was supposed to do that. He shook it off as Harry walked away, stepping into the bathroom at the end of the corridor. Draco walked down the common room steps to see Pansy screaming and jumping up and down in front of Blaise. There was a smattering of Gryffindors in the common room. By now, they were all so accustomed to Draco, Pansy and Blaise sharing their space that they simply ignored them all. And not the ‘pretend’ ignorance they’d got from last year November, but actual ignorance. It was refreshing.

“What the hell is going on?” he asked and Blaise turned to him. Draco paused. Blaise was cautious. That meant he wouldn’t like the source of Pansy’s excitement. He cocked an eyebrow and sat down on the arm of the chair Blaise had commandeered for the night.

“Quentin asked me out!” She was practically squeeing on the carpet.

Draco frowned and sat in thought for a while. Quentin? Where did he know that name? He looked down. Blaise wasn’t any help, he just stared at him. Draco had the feeling that once he remembered, he’d wish he didn’t. Then, he did. “Quentin _Turner_?” he asked. He didn’t have to dredge up any disgust. It just came out with the name in bounds. “The guy you dated last year? The guy who _dumped_ you last year?” He stood up. “No!” He’d had to put the pieces of Pansy back together back then, and performed a few not-quite-legal actions to punish him for making him go through it at all. He wasn’t going through it again.

Pansy stopped. “What did you say?”

“Pansy. I know you’re hung up on the guy but, this is insanity.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “Surely you remember _why_ he dumped you?” The bastard had got a little too handsy with her and when she’d stopped him, he’d called her frigid and told her that he didn’t date frigid people. He’d subsequently been subjected to her, now patented, Pin Cushion Curse for four days before Snape had forced her to take it off. He was the reason that curse had even been invented, what the hell was she thinking?

Pansy shook off his hands. “He’s changed.” She gave him a watery smile. “He started talking to me again, said he isn’t going to take the mark.”

Blaise couldn’t even look at her after that declaration. “Pansy, sweetheart,” he said. “That guy is bad news.” He kept his voice lowered to avoid eavesdroppers on the other couch.

“People said that about you when I first started hanging out with you.”

“Perhaps,” Blaise said, taking the insult and swallowing it. This issue was bigger and she was lashing out because she was hurt. He understood that. “But I’ve never treated you badly. Arseholes like that don’t change.”

“Draco did,” she said batting away his hands. She glared at Draco. “And, apparently so did Potter.”

“So did Potter, what?” They turned to see Harry walking down the stairs, freshly changed, wearing another t-shirt and loose pyjama pants. He sensed the tense atmosphere and paused. “Er.”

“You’ve changed,” Pansy snapped. “You’ve changed from the arsehole you used to be into Prince Charming and Draco refuses for that to be my example for Quentin.”

“There is a big difference between the Saviour here and Quentin Turner, the main one being that Potter wouldn’t dump a girl for not having sex with him,” Blaise retorted.

“Potter also wouldn’t tell a girl he’s changed and then hex a first year for not doing his homework,” Harry said. They turned as a collective and stared at him. “You’re talking about Quentin Turner, right? The Seventh Year?”

“Yeah,” Blaise said. “You know him?”

“Of him. A friend of mine, Luna, she lives with the first years he’s been terrorising all year.” He looked at Pansy. “You want to date him? Good luck.”

“Luna Lovegood? You want me to trust the ramblings of a crazy girl?”

“Pansy,” Draco said in a scolding tone. Everyone knew of Lovegood’s nickname, if one could call it that, but now wasn’t the time to bring it up. The room of Gryffindors were starting to pay attention to their argument.

“What? We all know she’s crazy.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t say that about her.”

She turned vindictive eyes on him and Draco knew that Harry didn’t know enough about her to realise she was just lashing out. “Why?”

Harry swallowed, the subject hitting home for him too. He saw Neville shift out of the corner of his eyes. “She witnessed her mother die in front of her. Do you know how that feels? It isn’t fun. Don’t judge people on things you don’t know about or understand.”

“Potter,” Draco said, catching his attention. Harry turned, a frown on his face, and Draco minutely shook his head. When he turned back to Pansy, she was crying in full force. She ran up the stairs of the girls’ dorm, knowing that the boys couldn’t follow. Draco sighed. “Nice.” He turned to Harry. “Her father died in an Auror raid. He was standing in front of her.”

Harry turned to him, on the defensive already. “How was I supposed to know that she’d seen one of her parents die?”

Draco narrowed his eyes at him, incredulous. “The same way she couldn’t know Luna Lovegood witnessed her mother die.” He shook his head. “Take your hypocrisy elsewhere, Potter, I’m not in the mood.”

Harry huffed, put out by the fact he knew Draco was right. His anger was already dissipating. He’d apologise to Pansy in the morning. He knew it was hard losing parents. Still, it bit that he was being scolded in front of his friends. “You’re definitely in one,” he muttered to himself.

Unfortunately, Draco heard him. The blond turned to him. “I beg your pardon?” He cocked an eyebrow. It had been a while since he’d fought with Harry – No – _Potter_. Had he really liked this guy? He couldn’t believe that. He was glad that he’d been shook clean of whatever it was that had taken over him. “Oh, please, say that again.”

Draco looked positively giddy at the thought of an argument, which Harry found strange. He was flushed pink with anger. He looked a little like he had when he’d seen him half naked upstairs. Only difference being there was more embarrassment there and more fury here. There was a small furrow marring his brow and the bridge of his nose crinkled over his angry face. How curious. Instead of feeling equally ready to fight, all Harry wanted to do was watch Draco in all his angry glory. He almost smiled, but he wasn’t suicidal. “You’re in a mood,” Harry said instead, aiming for defiance. “It’s not a problem, it’s rare to find you out of one.” Hmm, maybe he _was_ suicidal.

On the chair, where he’d sat back down, Blaise shook his head. “Holy Merlin’s balls.” He made himself small, so he wasn’t dragged into it. At the table, Ron did the same thing.

“Oh, you’re being funny now. Okay. Well, fine, Potter. Be a comedian.” His eyes were narrowed, searching, and they were triumphant when they found their target. “I’m sure your parents would be proud of you. Picking a fight with the guy having your baby, pressing all the right buttons, just to help yourself forget that you were picking on a girl, by reminding her of her father’s murder, simply because she offended your friend, who isn’t even fucking here.” Harry backed up once, twice. He was speechless. Draco always knew exactly what to say to induce a feeling of abject stupidity in him. It was a gift he used sparingly, but precisely, like an art form. It was a wonder to observe, but hell to experience. That satisfied expression was still on Draco’s face, a master at work appeased that he’d succeeded.

Even though he’d been thoroughly dressed down – by choice, at that – still, all he wanted to do was watch the blond celebrate his success. Those lips were stretched into a smirk, totally different to the torture they’d been subjected to upstairs as he bit them. He’d watched them as they’d spoken to him, giving him instructions, commenting on his cutting techniques. He’d been riveted when a pink tongue had come out to wet them every so often.

 _Christ._ What was happening to him? He shook his head. Draco was still watching him, the mocking smile too much for him to take.

“Fuck you, Draco.” He headed for the stairs, away from the eyes of his housemates, away from them all. He got a jumper on, and then, remembering it was night outside, he put on another one, just in case, and stormed back to the portrait hole.

“Where, the hell, are you going?” he heard and turned to see Draco glaring at him. His eyes took in Draco’s stance: his hip jutted to one side, his eyebrow cocked. Those grey eyes penetrated him to his core. Harry felt himself twitch and his hand itched to cover his fly. God, he had to get away.

“Away,” he said, hanging on to his last thought. “Away from you. Away from this.” He gestured to the tension between them that he couldn’t define. He needed air. He had to leave or else he would do something he regretted. Putting an effective end on the argument, he left, letting the portrait hole swing shut behind him.

“He’s not serious,” Draco said turning to Blaise. “He’s running away from ‘this’? What the fuck is _this_?” He gestured the way Harry had before he’d run away.

“Malfoy,” Ron began. “He probably just needed some space.” Harry had told him what had happened to Dumbledore, what he’d been forced to do to an old man. He’d want to get away too.

“Space?” Draco turned his glare on Ron. “Oh, I see, space from ‘this’.” He nodded gesturing to his pregnant self. “I get it, don’t worry. He runs away went he can’t handle something. Fine.”

Ron stared at Malfoy, taking in his frustration. Despite his understanding of what Harry was going through. Harry was really stupid for leaving the Tower completely. Fleur was pregnant at the moment and over the Christmas break he’d witnessed an argument of mass proportions. Veela had difficult pregnancies if they mated with a human. She got moody all the time and Bill, well, he wasn’t known for his even temper. _A bit like mum in that respect._ He too had claimed he wanted air and left for the garden, only to get followed by Fleur. She screamed at him that if she didn’t get to leave her body for an hour or two, then neither did he. He’d seen Bill’s side of the argument, but he’d understood hers too. It wasn’t fair that Bill could walk away.

He turned to look at the portrait hole and then back at Malfoy, who was pacing. Blaise had left his sentry post at the bottom of the stairs that led to the girl’s dorm. He’d been waiting to see if Pansy would come back down, since he wasn’t allowed up. The Slytherin was now trying to calm Draco down. Oh yeah, Harry was really stupid.

It was after midnight when Harry got back. Tomorrow was Saturday, so a few people were taking advantage of the day off and staying up late. He got a few judgemental looks, as he walked into the common room, which surprised him. Those Slytherins had definitely made their mark on Gryffindor territory. He noticed Blaise was sitting with his feet stretched out on a couch, in front of the fire, reading. No one was bothering him, or paying him any attention. He, in turn, was ignoring everyone around him. No sign of Draco. Or Pansy. He’d probably gone to bed. He shook his head and walked up to Ron, who was at the foot of the stairs reading something Seamus had given him to browse through. He was glad for his walk. It had cleared his head a lot. He was able to think without Draco’s lips and eyes and hair clouding his thought pattern. He’d made a few decisions on how to handle them too. Now, all he needed was the courage. Draco had just about filled his mind since before Christmas. It was getting crowded in his head with a child on the way and his training with both Snape and the aurors, and these damn Horcruxes that Dumbledore was on at him to find. He’d told Harry to go to the Tower after they’d got back. Harry hadn’t wanted to, Dumbledore could hardly stand, but the Headmaster has insisted, holding his blackened hand close to his body.

“You left.” Shocked out of his thoughts by Draco’s voice, Harry looked up to see the serious face of Draco Malfoy staring at him. It wasn’t even a glare. It was just... empty.

He nodded. “I needed to clear my head.”

An empty bark of laughter to go with the stare. “Oh, did you. You needed to step away for a while?” he mocked leaning against the banister.

Harry gritted his teeth. “I did. I needed to find a clear space where I wasn’t being yelled at all the time.”

A vindictive smile answered him. The blond stood straight and walked down the stairs. “Mmm. And did you find it? Your peace? Your time away from me, was it good?” he said with feigned interest.

These were all sounding like rhetorical questions. Scratch that. _Trick_ questions were more like it. “... Yes,” he answered slowly.

Draco’s eyes narrowed slightly in annoyance. “Mm, you feel better?” He walked up to him. Close enough that their conversation was private, but not so close to actually touch him accidentally. Harry praised Merlin for small mercies. Perhaps the old coot was listening after all.

“Yeah, I do.” And he did. He’d discovered a lot while he was gone. And he had decided on even more.

Harry didn’t see the clenching of Draco’s fist, nor did he see it flying until it was far too late. Draco bent to be eye level with Harry, who was now doubled over and holding his nose. “Well, good for you, Potter. _Good_ for you.”

Harry straightened and Draco did too, looking supremely satisfied. “What the _fuck_ is your problem?” HIs desire for Draco was gone, that was for damn sure.

Draco simply shook his head. “Nothing is my problem, Potter. You feel better. Now, I feel better. Let’s leave it at that.”

Harry moved his hand to see if he was bleeding. “What the hell do you have with fracturing my nose?” He moved his hand and felt along his fulcrum. No blood, luckily.

Draco looked up, staring at nothing really, but smiling nonetheless. “It’s satisfying in a way I can’t describe.” He turned away again, aware that most eyes in the common room, if they weren’t trying to ignore what was going on, were definitely focused on the two of them.

“Why are you doing this? Why are you always so upset with me? I’m trying here. So what if I needed a little time? There’s nothing wrong with that.” Draco’s breathing turned deep. He could feel a pulse of heat gathering in his chest as Harry continued to rant. He knew it wasn’t his child. It recognised Potter’s signature and Draco knew it wouldn’t hurt a hair on the brunet’s head unless he was full on attacking them. Even then, Draco was sure he’d have to be half dead before the little cretin gave in. Figures the little shit would be on Potter’s side too, just like everyone else in the room. Oh no. No, this fury rising – it was all him. Nothing the little ball of magic could do would settle it, he was too far gone.

“Tell me, Malfoy!” Oh. He was yelling now? Well Draco would definitely get in on that.

“Because it isn’t _fair_!” He screamed at him. He’d been silent in his fury until then. His outburst made Harry jump and he couldn’t help felling a little victory in that. The common room froze. Draco took a pause and realised where he was. He swallowed and fought against the sudden misting he could feel creeping up on his eyes. He turned away. He made it halfway up the stairs by the time Harry caught up enough to realise he was actually leaving.

“No, no you don’t get to run away.”

Ron, who was standing beside the stairs when Draco came down groaned to himself. After the conversation he’d had earlier with the blond, he knew – if anything was the wrong thing to say, that was it. “Oh god.”

Draco stood stock still on the steps. “I beg your pardon?” He turned slowly, like his body was stuck in mud and he was trying to pry his way free. “I don’t- _what_?”

“Oh, Harry, you complete idiot,” Ron muttered to himself. Blaise turned to him and frowned. He shook his head. The Slytherin would know soon enough. Draco had been upset enough earlier to stuff a dragon.

Step by step, Draco walked down the common room stairs he’d managed to climb in his haste to get away. “Oh. I see,” he said with false humour. “We have an argument and you feel overwhelmed, so you run to the hills to get some ‘fresh air’ while I’m stuck in place with nowhere to go, nothing to do but sit and remain fucking pregnant.” He stepped into Harry’s personal space, feeling vindicated when the brunet flinched. “You think I don’t feel _overwhelmed_ , Potter? You think I don’t want to leave this behind for a moment of clarity, on my own, where there isn’t you – and here and this... baby.” He narrowed his eyes. “You think I don’t want that too?” His voice sharpened, the edges becoming razor like. “You think I _enjoy_ being trapped here? You think I enjoy being told that I’m not wanted, nor tolerated on a daily basis?” A finger poked into his sternum and Harry flinched again. “If I wanted that I would have stayed in the fucking Slytherin Dorm.” He clucked his tongue and sneered. “So you get to run away and I don’t? You think that’s fair, cos I can assure you it’s NOT!” He pushed Harry back with as much strength as he possessed, satisfied when the Gryffindor fell. “You have no _right_ after _everything you’ve done_ to dare tell me that I can’t leave. You have no right to tell me I can’t take my anger out on you, since it’s you who got me into this in the first place! I didn’t want to be here,” he said pointing to himself. “ _You_ brought me here!” he added pointing down at him in turn.

Harry, catching on to what Draco was talking about, got angry. “You were trying to kill yourself!” He said and stood up. “If I hadn’t been there, you would have let the Giant Squid eat you!”

“Well can you _fucking blame me?_ ” he screamed at him, his eyes blazing with fury. A shocked gasp made him pause and step back. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest. Anxiety. Something about arguing with this man always made him forget himself. He could feel the eyes in the common room centring on him, though he couldn’t see them through his hair. But through it all he recognised that gasp. Pansy. Pansy, who’d always said she looked up to him for his strength, had come back down the stairs – probably hearing all the raised voices – and now knew he’d tried to jump in the lake and drown himself alongside the fucking Giant Squid. Potter had actually announced it. He’d promised he wouldn’t say anything. He shook his head. He should have known better than to trust him. He should have known better than to have had anything to do with him. “You know what? Fuck you, Potter. I’m leaving.” He turned and began his ascent of the stairs again.

“Leaving?”

He continued climbing. “That’s what I said.”

“Where?” The voice was closer. He was climbing the stairs too. Draco shook his head. The idiot didn’t learn. He almost turned and pushed him back down. Draco was sick of this back and forth between them. The Gryffindor went from being the most annoying persistent leech, to living in the last stage of abandonment, and back again. Draco was dizzy with it.

“Home. I’ll take my chances with the Dark Lord, if it’s all the same to you.”

Harry stopped. “You can’t do that.”

“Actually he can,” Blaise said deeming their commotion more important than his textbook. “Hogwarts, like most schools, is just a formality.” Torn between following Draco and listening to Blaise, Harry chose the letter, since he knew where Draco was going. “He can take N.E.W.Ts from home just like the rest of us.” He went back to his book when Harry took off up the stairs. Harry reached the top and sped up to get to Draco, as he walked up the second flight, at the other end of the corridor to the Prefect dorms.

“It’s not the same to me,” he said catching up to him in the middle of the flight.

Draco ignored him and walked around him. Reaching the top, finally, he sighed, a little exhausted. Merlin, this tower had so many bloody stairs. “Not from where I’m standing.” He turned the corner and walked along the corridor to his room.

God, Harry just wanted to shake him. “Malfoy.” He tugged on the blond’s shoulder, making him stand with his back to the wall of the corridor instead.

Draco just shrugged off his hand. “No, Potter. If you get to leave, if you get to abandon things partway through, then so do I.” He began to walk again.

Harry rounded him and stood in his path again. “No.”

Draco was going to scream again, he just knew it. “For fuck’s sake, stop following me and _stop_ getting in my way,” the blond sneered and thwacked his arm away this time. He went around him.

“ _No_.”

As Harry’s visage took up residence in his path one more time, Draco wanted to Avada him, just once. “Do you _want_ me to break your nose again? Eventually, it’ll _stop_ healing.”

“I-” The brunet paused when a creak on the stairs made him roll his eyes. Damn gossipers. He took Draco’s hand and led him into the blond’s room. “Sit,” he said as he closed and locked the door. Finally alone. He turned around to see Draco sitting on his bed looking out the window. His trunk sat below in the alcove that framed it, acting as a window seat.

“We’re alone now. Talk to me.” They always seemed to be better at talking when there was no one else around. He was hoping this idea would bring out more conversation and less violence. “There’s something else you’re not telling me. And I _do_ care, despite what you keep reminding me.” He braved the glare aimed in his direction and sat down on the bed next to him anyway.

Draco was shaking his head. “I didn’t want this. And then I got used to the idea. Better yet, I got used to the idea of doing this alone. I didn’t need your help and you didn’t want to give it to me. I miss those days because now-” Draco paused and Harry realised it was because he really couldn’t say anything anymore.

He’d seriously screwed this up, hadn’t he? Harry knew why Draco missed those times. He had little to lose when Harry didn’t want to commit to anything. When Harry was too scared to admit any kind of responsibility. “I promised you I’d help.” He had promised him he’d protect him. With his disappearing act, he was recanting that promise. And even worse, he’d done it in the worst possible way.

Draco laughed emptily again. “With your stubbornness, your refusal to leave me alone, your fucking presence has made us used to you and I became... complacent. But I was reminded today just how one sided this... screwed up relationship actually is. How it’s always been.”

“No.“

Draco rolled his eyes. “Oh – Potter, face it. You _can_ walk away.” He gestured to himself. “I don’t _have_ that luxury. You can break your promises all you want. That’s your prerogative. I’m the idiot for falling for them in the first place.” He shook his head and looked away. “Just... go.”

Harry stood in front of him once more. Draco heaved an annoyed sigh. “Malfoy, you don’t understand.”

“Yes, I do. You said it before. You don’t need me.” Uncle Vernon had been telling him his entire life to shut up. Perhaps the man was on to something. Nothing Harry said seemed to be the right thing and what he _had_ said was being thrown back in his face. Draco looked really upset and Harry had no idea how to fix it. “I _didn’t_ need you. Problem is, I’m invested in this now and somewhere along the line, I got dependant on the idea that you were too. And now, I have to find a way to not need you anymore. I won’t survive _this_ if I don’t.” He gestured to himself again helplessly. Like there was nothing he could do. They both knew there wasn’t. He was four months gone and the baby now recognised him as host. If he tried to get rid of it, he’d die too. He got up and unlocked his trunk to begin packing.

 _I’ll take my chances with The Dark Lord,_ he’d said.

Harry’s eyes narrowed. _The hell you will._ “You want to know why I left?”

Draco shook his head and started folding clothes. “I don’t need to know.”

The comeback stung, he’d admit, but Harry was persevering here. “I’ve been watching you.”

Pausing, Draco looked at him, puzzled. “What?”

Despite his nerves, Harry ignored that request to repeat himself. He didn’t think he could if he tried. “A lot longer and a lot more inappropriately than I should,” he continued.

Draco’s brow marred. “You’ve been-”

Harry stood now too. “And I left two hours ago because if I had stayed, watching you look so... angry and passionate I would have done something I should not have. Something that would probably have caused you to take your chances with Voldemort anyway.” He took the folded shirt Draco had in his hand away and dropped it on his bed.

“What?” Draco asked confused. He looked down to the tanned hand that was replacing his shirt and back up into Harry’s face.

Seeing as Draco didn’t understand, Harry showed him. “This.” Draco’s confusion, at least, was satisfied when Harry simply cupped his face and stepped close enough to softly brush his nose against his. Draco froze as Harry’s lips came tantalizingly close enough to kiss. When their lips finally touched, a sigh escaped him. Harry’s mouth was so warm, the caress of his lips softer than he could have imagined with another boy. He tasted tentatively with his tongue, and Draco opened his mouth with a low moan. Before Draco was ready to let go, Harry lightly pressed his forehead against his and caressed Draco’s cheek before pulling reluctantly away. Draco opened his eyes, unaware of when he’d closed them. He was struck by how bright an emerald green Harry’s eyes were, but he’d never noticed that, this close, the brunet actually had small flecks of brown near the centre. People always said he had his mother’s eyes. Apparently, his father’s appearance couldn’t keep out of that either. Draco had never seen their eyes though, so to him, Potter’s eyes were simply his; green with flecks of brown. It was endearing, that out of everything Harry Potter was made up of, from people he’d never met, he actually had something to call his that was made of both of them, instead of individual pieces. The Gryffindor probably didn’t see it that way, though.

“I’ve been breaking my promises. I won’t anymore. I’ll protect you, Draco. I swear.” Those eyes were pleading with him.

A low, rumbling growl began deep below them and they sprang apart as a boom suddenly shook not only their tower, but probably the entire school. They stood after it stopped, staring at each other with a mix of emotions, among them confusion and need. A high pitched scream sounded from downstairs and Draco recognised it immediately. _That_ was Pansy’s terror scream. It was moments before the door to Draco and Blaise’s room was pounded against with a group of fists.

“Open the fucking door, Draco, the school is under attack!”

Harry hurried to the door and unlocked it. Blaise came through, followed by Ron, Hermione and Pansy. Pansy went straight to a window to look outside, gasping at what she saw. Curious, Draco followed her.

He froze in place. “Fucking Merlin...” he whispered in awe at the amount of wizards there were outside on the grounds. Up in the sky, the dark mark shone bright green and ominous. “Is that-” He squinted to see the shimmering glow of gold. “Those are the school wards! That’s not possible.” He turned to Harry. “How is that possible?” he exclaimed pointing outside. He refused to admit to how hysterical he sounded.

Frowning, Harry went to stand behind him, all thoughts of awkwardness from earlier forgotten. He saw the last of the shimmering gold lines dissipate. He turned to his two best friends. They were watching also, but shared a solemn glance with him. “We have to get to Dumbledore,” he said. “You remember what I told you?” They nodded to him and he nodded once in reply, turning back to the window.

“You’re leaving.” It wasn’t a question.

Harry didn’t have a chance to reply as Draco was out the door before he even tried. Blaise and Pansy shared a glance before following him. Harry made a confused gesture with his hands and ran out after them, bypassing Blaise and Pansy on the stairs. By the time he made it out to the common room, Draco was nearly at the portrait hole.

He sprinted down the stairs and was able to catch up to the blond as he stepped outside. “Where the hell are you going?”

“Like I said,” Draco replied, not even pausing. “If you get to run away, so do I.”

_I’ll take my chances with the Dark Lord_

An undeniable fury began to stir in the pit of Harry’s stomach. “You’re still going to try to go home? With all this going on?” He gestured to the small explosions he could hear outside through the castle walls.

“Yes.” Draco’s eyes were cold, none of the heat Harry had witnessed in them before was present as they stared at him now. “My father’s probably out there, right? Maybe he could give me a side-along home. Mum would be worried about me.”

“Mal... _Draco_ ,” he amended, hoping to really get his attention for longer than a couple of seconds. “When I said we had to leave-”

“I don’t care, Potter.”

“I’m taking you with me, you idiot. I can’t leave you here, what kind of person do you think I am?” Draco paused and stood staring at him.

“Well, can we go?” The pair turned to see Ron and Hermione stepping out of the portrait hole, followed by Blaise and Pansy. Ron had his hands in his pockets and Hermione held a small bag in her hands. “Because the longer we stand here arguing, the shorter amount of time we’ll have to get to the Headmaster’s office.” Hermione began digging in her bag and pulled out a familiar piece of parchment. Harry looked at her like she was a godsend and opened it up.

“I’ve had it packed since you told us about _Them_ ,” she said, clutching the small satchel closely.

Harry nodded, understanding she meant the Horcruxes. “I solemnly swear I am up to no good.”

As the ink bled once more onto the sheet, Draco stepped up beside him to see what the hell he was doing. When he realised what he was looking at, he looked up at his Housemates before giving Harry a slap upside the head.

“Ow! What the hell was that for?”

“Because right now I seriously do _not_ like you.”

Harry frowned at him before his eyes went back to the parchment, shaking his head in the process. “Alright, the way looks clear.” He began to walk and the group followed him. Luckily, the castle hadn’t been breached yet, but they still stuck to secret passages. When they finally got to the Headmaster’s office, the stairs that led up to his office door were already present. Harry took the first step and waited. When nothing happened, he kept climbing, hearing the steps of the others behind him. When they reached the top of the stairs, Harry looked at them all, wondering if he should knock. Draco simply took the door handle and opened the door.

All of them froze as the Headmaster fell to the floor. As one, their eyes rose to the group of Death Eaters in the room. Harry’s eyes stuck on Theodore Nott, who still had his wand high and planted in the spot Dumbledore had been standing. The wand was now pointed directly at him and Draco, whom he’d pulled behind him.

 _He’s dead_.

The words ran around his head for a few seconds before he registered that the robed men and women in the room, in response to the opening door, were turning to see them all standing there.

“Fuck me,” Blaise swore behind him slowly and quietly.

“I think we should run,” Ron whispered after him.

A spell was forming on Nott’s lips and, quickly, Harry disarmed him. Hermione threw a small packet in the air and then called out a cutting spell that split it in half. Instantly, Peruvian Darkness Powder surrounded them and he took hold of Draco’s arm to pull him back towards the stairs.

Outside of the simulated darkness, they ran down the stairs and into the corridor. Harry felt a bit dazed, but Ron pushed him hard in the back to get him to move. Since they were still on the seventh floor, there was relatively no one except Gryffindors running around, trying to follow the directives of McGonagall’s announcement to make their way to the Great Hall. Ron led their group away from the din to the Room of Requirement and had the rest of them stand back as he paced.

Watching him, Harry settled into a silence. He suddenly felt a hand on his arm and looked up to see Draco watching him in sympathy. He may not have liked the old man, but he recognised that Harry had cared for him and despite everything going on, Harry was grateful for that. He smiled at the blond and followed Ron into the room when they were ushered in hurriedly. He found himself in a classroom. He looked around and then at the door across the room. There were explosions happening on the other side of the door. He frowned and turned to Ron.

“I asked for an unused classroom on the ground floor. Seemed easier than running around and dodging hexes, yeah?”

Harry found himself smiling. He was in complete agreement. “Genius,” he said and went to the door. Carefully, he twisted the handle and pulled it open a crack to peer out into the corridor. He was looking towards the small corridor at the end that led to the courtyard. Teachers were running around, ushering students towards the Great Hall for evacuation. He recognised a few aurors too. They’d responded very quickly, and now, obviously, since there weren’t any wards around the castle, they could _Apparate_ straight in. He closed the door, a sadness taking over him because he’d actually lost the only home he’d ever known. “Yeah, we’re there. We’re facing east, by the corridor to the courtyard.”

“Towards the forest then?” Ron asked solemnly.

Harry nodded in kind. “Yeah.”

“I’m not going anywhere near that forest, Potter.” Draco crossed his arms. Harry watched him and they stared each other down, until Ron raised his arms to end their contest.

“We could fly,” he suggested.

Harry turned to him. “I left my broom in my dorm.”

Ron shrugged. “Me too, _Accio_ it.” Harry, very suddenly, remembered the Triwizard Tournament and that rather vicious Hungarian Horntail. He looked at Draco, who was glaring at him. Not much had changed, really. He sat on a desk, sighing. This night had been far too long already. He took off his glasses.

“I’m four months pregnant, I’m not allowed on a broom.”

“Not without supervision,” Blaise reminded him. “It’s probably best that we double up anyway. And if I _Accio_ your broom, I can use yours with Pansy and you can double with Potter. I doubt he’ll let you go with anyone else anyway.”

Draco turned to Harry, who looked rather tired. He’d taken off his glasses to rub his eyes. It didn’t even look as if he’d heard Blaise’s remark. He bit into his bottom lip and thought. It wouldn’t be so bad, he supposed, though it would be remarkably uncomfortable. What had happened earlier would make this awkward, he was sure. But he couldn’t think of that now. He’d decided to keep what was growing inside him. He had to keep it safe. Knowing Potter, if he wasn’t trying to do the same thing, he’d probably be out there fighting, exhaustion or not. Turning to Blaise and Ron, he simply nodded.

They had to leave the classroom and make their way, undetected, to the courtyard in order to get a chance to _Accio their brooms._ If Draco had been staying in the Slytherin dorms still, that would have been difficult to accomplish, but since he’d been in the tower, it wasn’t long until all of the brooms were flying towards them. They ducked behind one of the low walls in the courtyard as a striking hot beam of red light whizzed past them. The brooms had obviously been seen.

“Fuck,” Harry swore. “We can’t take off from here. They’ll definitely see.”

Ron looked around and pointed. “There’s a group of rocks over there.” They followed his gaze to the collection of large rocks about halfway down the hill. “It’s dark, so we could probably make it.”

“Speak for yourself,” Draco said eyeing him dully. “I say again, four months pregnant.”

“We’ll go first,” Pansy said. They turned to watch her. “We can draw fire.”

“That’s a remarkably Gryffindorish mentality, Parkinson,” Ron remarked.

She shrugged. “I’ve been hanging around you lot for three months. Something was bound to stick.”

Ron nodded, smiling. “We’ll go in waves then.” He picked up his broom and turned to Hermione. “You’re afraid of flying. I understand that ‘Mione, but I’m really going to have to appeal to your logical side. This is the only way to get out of here.”

Hermione hadn’t said a word, since they’d decided to _Accio_ their brooms. She was looking rather pale and stared at Ron like she couldn’t actually hear what he was saying. She nodded anyway, swallowing heavily, and then flicked her gaze to his broom. He’d got it as a present for his birthday after making the Quidditch team as a keeper. It was much faster than his previous broom, which was a school broom – notoriously slow and old looking. She wasn’t going to like this.

“When we take off, close your eyes tight, alright?” Another curse hit the wall above their heads and they ducked as small pieces of rubble fell on them.

“We’ll cover you,” Blaise said and peeked over the half wall to fire a curse back. As the Death Eaters took cover, Ron grabbed Hermione’s hand and took off running down the large, wide stone steps that led to Hagrid’s cottage.

“Go,” Harry called out to Blaise and took over for him. As a unit, they all got up and ran. All of them shot spells, hexes and curses to keep the Death Eaters that had spotted them behind the wall they’d taken for their cover. A curse sliced through Harry’s jumper as he rounded the large rocks. He looked down at it. This was his favourite jumper too. _Bastards_. He turned to Draco. “You alright?” The blond nodded to him, a little out of breath to answer. He was worried. Pregnant people shouldn’t really be running. Pregnant _men_ had no reason to be off bed rest as far as Madam Pomfrey was concerned. He peered around the rocks and got a blue coloured hex for his troubles. _Well at least they’re changing up their attacks_. The Death Eaters were getting closer, peering around the edge of the hill that dropped down to their Care of Magical Creatures ‘Classroom’. They had to get out of there. He turned to the forest.

“If we take off through the forest and then break through the canopy, we might have a chance to get out unhit.”

“Unscathed.” He turned to Draco. “What? Unhit isn’t a word.” The blond crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned a little to look around the rocks they were hiding behind and shivered. He was wearing his pyjamas, a dressing robe over it. Before they’d argued earlier, Draco had obviously been getting ready for bed. It was March, but it was still the middle of the night. He must be freezing. They needed to act fast and find somewhere safer than Hogwarts.

 _Somewhere safer than Hogwarts..._ Didn’t _that_ sound strange.

“Fly east,” he told them.

He received a round of frowns and incredulous stares. “What? What about you?” Ron said staring at him as if he’d grown another head. Next to him, Blaise shot off a round of curses that would have made his mother proud. He heard a yelp from one of the men further up the hill and snickered.

Harry shook his head. “Combined, me and-” He stopped and stared at Draco as he repeated himself. “ _Draco and I_ ,” he said instead and took a little pleasure in the ‘Oh, very funny’ look he got from Draco before the blond rolled his eyes, “are more powerful than all of you combined. You need that if you’re going to get away. Don’t worry about us, just fly east, we’ll catch up.”

Pansy was staring between him and Draco as they heard, “ _Behind the cluster of rocks, there by the giant’s hut._ ” It sounded a lot closer than it was, but it was enough to spur them into action. She rushed forward and hugged Draco tightly.

“You better,” she said in his ear and he hugged her back. He really wished he thought of her as more than friend. It would have made his life so much simpler. His gaze trailed over to Harry, remembering the kiss they’d shared in the tower. He could still feel the touch of lips against his and the tingles in his fingers where he’d grabbed a hold of the brunet’s jumper to steady himself. He sighed hopelessly. _So much simpler_.

Ron and Blaise set their brooms to hover and climbed on with the girls behind them. Harry waited for Hermione to gain her balance. He walked up to her and put his hand on hers to stop the death grip she had of his jumper. Her eyes showed she was terrified. She really hated flying. He cupped her face and breathed in deeply, waiting for her to copy him. When she exhaled in tandem, it was shaky, but better than the near hyperventilation she was coping with in silence before. “Keep your eyes closed and relax forward into Ron,” he said, moulding her body into his. “Just do as he does and you won’t feel a thing, I promise.” She threaded her hand through the strap of her bag and held on tight.

“Besides the feeling of being miles in the air, you mean?” she said quietly.

“Keep your eyes closed,” he said again. All you’ll feel is the sway, like being on a boat.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’ve never been on a boat.”

He played indignant. “I was a first year once, you know.” She smiled at him.

“You were,” she said fondly. “You’re nothing like that child anymore though. All grown up and telling me what to do.”

“Hey,” he said to her. “You’re only a couple months older than me. You’re not my mum.” He backed up, putting something in his pocket and turned to Draco. “Your wand,” he said and the blond flashed it for him. He hadn’t put it away since they’d hit the courtyard. Harry readied his as well and turned back to Hermione.

She smiled at him and laid her head on Ron’s back as he rose a little higher. Blaise copied his movements. “All the better for you.”

Harry chuckled. The smile then faded from his face as he turned around to blast a series of curses and hexes around the rocks to the robed and masked Death Eaters that were still edging closer. “Go!” he yelled to them and the two pairs jetted off past Hagrid’s home into the forest before breaking through the canopy of trees further inside. As the Death Eaters took cover with shield charms, Harry picked up his broom, leaning it up against the rocks, and took a deep breath as the edges of the stone splintered with the retaliating fire. Draco was leaning back against the cold stone, breathing deeply. He wasn’t shivering anymore and Harry was grateful. He still cast a warming charm on them both, though. They’d be in the air soon, and the wind would be colder up there than anywhere else.

“Any ideas, Mr we’re-more-powerful-together-than-you-all-are-combined?” Draco huffed out a laugh. “You should sell your pep talks, you’d make a fortune. Especially since Blaise actually fell for it. Weasley I can understand, but Blaise? I have not taught him well.” He got a searching glance from Draco then. “According to Pansy, actually, I trained you better. I didn’t see it until now.” He cocked his head to the side as he stared. “Huh.”

Harry stared back, seeing some of that heat he recognised from upstairs returning to the blond’s eyes.

“I have a couple of ideas.” He could hear the Death Eaters getting closer now that they’d stopped firing. The chaos going on in the castle sounded far away too. It was muffled, like it was happening behind a glass window in an enclosed room and he was staring in from outside. Draco cocked an eyebrow. “Come here.” When Draco didn’t argue, he stepped forward to meet him, with his broom in hand, and rested their foreheads against each other. His heart was racing after their getaway, but being this close to Draco – it wasn’t helping. “Put your arm around me,” he said guiding Draco’s hand up around his neck. “Your wand arm below mine. I need you to cover our take off, since I’ve got to keep my eyes on the road... er, air.” He stepped forward again, disregarding Draco’s confused stare as he was backed against the stone. Harry inserted a knee between his legs and Draco gasped at the friction, rising up a little, since he had nowhere else to go. He looked down, though, when he felt his foot mash something hard, to see it was on the broom rest of Harry’s Firebolt. The broom had two of them, so when it wasn’t in use, it could stand freeform without anything to lean against. His other foot was on the grass, but he didn’t think about that when he felt Harry’s hand on his hip. When he looked down at that side, he saw Harry putting his foot on the other broom rest. He looked up as he heard someone stumbling over rocks. Harry was staring at him, his gaze fixed on his eyes. Draco thought he was trying to tell him something but their close proximity was messing up his concentration. Then, Harry looked up.

Draco got it just as the broom began to hover.

Harry reached into his pocket and tore open another sachet of Instant Peruvian Darkness Powder that Hermione had slipped to him just before they’d taken off. “You ready?” he said.

Draco nodded and tightened his grip. “As I’ll ever be.”

“Good,” he said as a Death Eater came around the side of the rocks, his wand aimed at them. Harry threw the sachet up, the contents flailing out haphazardly and instantly absorbing all the light around them.

Just before they took off, Draco felt the soft press of lips against his and couldn’t help but respond lightly, until the rush of the air made him cut it short and shut his eyes. His grip was almost crushing as his back was jammed tightly against the length of the broom. They were spinning slowly around, probably caused by the momentum as Harry kicked off from the ground.

“You can look, we’re clear,” he heard after a few moments and opened his eyes. They were still shooting upward, but the ground and all it inhabited looked so small. He could see the rapid fire of spells in the darkness on the castle grounds and knew that those were teachers and students alike, defending a castle that was no longer safe. His home away from home was being destroyed. He joked about it before when he walked out, but Draco really hoped his father was not a part of this.

“I’m turning east, we’re going to have to shift so I can level off.” True to his word Harry started slowing down when Hogwarts began to resemble the size of a galleon. Draco tightened his hold as the broom began to level off and he had to actually sit up to be able to sit properly. After a little manoeuvring, he was sitting on the broom facing Harry, with his legs over the brunet’s thighs and hooked under the bristles.

“If we weren’t so grown up, this would be very awkward.”

Harry laughed, all thoughts of trying to say something and looking the fool forgotten. “Let’s find our friends.” He leaned forward, to get the broom moving, effectively making Draco lie down again, and shot down as if he were doing a Wronski Feint towards the forest and away from the castle. Blaise and Ron had got a head start, but he was confident he could catch up.

“I never realised the forest was so big,” he heard commented in his ear after a while. The hot breath that wasn’t whipped away by the wind beating against them made him shiver.

He turned his head to the blond and smiled. “It stretches for miles away from the castle. All the trees, after a while, begin to look the same so if you don’t know what you’re looking for, it’s easy to get lost.”

Draco frowned. “Exactly how many times have you been in the forest, Potter?”

Harry turned to him again. “My name is Harry,” he said and pointedly ignored his question. Though he wasn’t looking anymore, he could feel the eye roll Draco was conducting next to him.

“Harry. Answer my question.”

“Enough,” Harry said eventually and this time caught the eye roll in action. He looked ahead again and made a noise of recognition. “There they are!” he called and moved a bit to the right so Draco could arch his neck and look ‘up’. He faced the column of pale skin and swallowed hard. Why on earth was the exposed skin so tempting? He’d never really noticed it before.

He was still caught up on the question when he felt a cold dawning sense of dread.

Draco had just spotted a highlighted group of teenagers on brooms when the broom he was on lurched. He turned his head back to Harry to see him looking pale and frightened. He frowned at the Gryffindor’s reaction, not understanding. He then felt the cold tendrils of terror. It enveloped him, like all the happiness was being drowned by despair. Instantly, he felt the familiar stirrings of their child’s magic putting pressure against his abdomen. He wondered if Harry could feel it too.

In his mind’s eye, images were filling his head with bad memories he’d tried his hardest to block out. His anxiety at having to join the Dark Lord’s fold. Would he be good enough, did he have what it took? Would his father be disappointed if he didn’t live up to the Malfoy name? He felt the slap that his father’s distant relative Wilhelmina Malfoy gave him after she found him ‘playing’ with her daughter a few years ago when she’d come to discuss betrothal contracts. When his memories went further back, he saw his first pet cat jumping out of his bedroom window to catch the pigeon in the tree outside when he was seven. He saw a small child being carried away from his mother’s room wrapped in a black cloth when he was five.

“Exp... Expect...” he heard in his ear and it snapped him out of it. He looked straight up and saw a dark cloud that swirled above them. It didn’t take him long to figure out they were Dementors. He felt a brush of leaves on his shoulder and knew they were losing altitude. He turned his head to look at Harry. His eyes were closing like he was fighting sleep. The pressure rose to his chest. It seemed greater than before, like there was more power behind it. Was it because it was growing, or was it because the two fathers were so close? Madam Pomfrey had told him once that the child would draw on his magic the more it grew. She said it would be easier on him if Pot-Harry was around because it could then draw magic from him too.

All the other times their son had used his magic, Draco had never felt power like this behind it. How powerful was Harry, anyway?

“Expecto Pat...” Harry tried again sleepily. He shook his head, wincing. Draco wondered at the images assaulting him. He’d heard through the rumour mill that Harry was connected to Voldemort, that he could sometimes see what the Dark Lord saw. If so, the bad memories assaulting him would be much worse.

“Yeah, Potter, I know.” He was glad he still had his wand on him. He tried to think up a happy memory, even while he felt like he couldn’t breathe. He’d honestly never felt a powerbase so strong before. He shut his eyes, desperately trying to banish all the memories that were flooding his mind too. He thought of something good, something that he could use.

 _I’ll protect you, I promise_. He’d been speechless soon after but the brunet had simply smiled at him. He believed him, even though he really hadn’t wanted to get his hopes up that _someone_ with authority in the Gryffindor Tower would keep back the masses of practical jokes and insults towards him.

 _I’ll protect you_.

“Expecto Patron...”

Draco opened his eyes at Harry’s continued attempt to call out the spell, even though he could barely keep his eyes open. He was still trying to be the hero, though Merlin knew what was ravaging through his mind at the same time.

_A bright smile, emerald green eyes with a fleck or two of brown._

Draco stared at Harry Potter. “No. I’ll protect you this time.” He pointed his wand straight upwards toward the black swirling cloud of Dementors. Carding his other hand through Harry’s hair, he channelled the power that was essentially flowing through him and practically screamed, “EXPECTO PATRONUM!”

The world was blurry when he opened his eyes. The moon swam as his eyes tried to focus on it and for a very disorienting moment, he thought he was underwater. The heavy weight on his chest was gone though, and when he pulled in air it came in bounds. He groaned, though, because, seriously, why couldn’t he focus on anything?

“Here,” he heard and turned his head towards the voice. It was Harry’s. He sounded lucid, not at all groggy like he was before Draco had obviously passed out. “It’s chocolate. Take some, believe me, you’ll feel better.” Something solid was placed in his hand and he grabbed hold of it. He could smell the cocoa in it and bit down, devouring it in record time. “Hmm, I think that means you’re hungry.”

“What happened?” Draco asked as he felt the effect of the chocolate instantly. Things were coming back into focus.

“We were followed by Dementors. I think we went too high, because they saw us. We’d almost reached everyone else when they caught up to us.”

“Where are they?” Draco asked, not seeing them.

“In front.” He huffed. “We’re on tow. They didn’t trust me to steer and hold on to you while you were unconscious at the same time.”

“How long have I been out?”

Harry shook his head. “Well, I snapped out of it just after you sent the Dementors away.” He paused and smiled at him. “Thanks for that, by the way. Blaise and Ron were feeling the effects of the Dementors too, but since they were further away, and not the subject of the attack, they were trying to outrun them instead. They said they saw your Patronus. Ron said it was ‘super bright and really big’. I didn’t get to see it, though. I’m kinda disappointed.”

“Hey, when did you wake up?” Draco turned to his side to see Blaise pulling alongside them. Pansy pinched him and he yelped.

“Don’t do that to me again,” she said with her eyes narrowed. “It was not funny, nor was it a good time.” She pulled her hair back and twisted it, stuffing it down the back of her robe. She, like him, was wearing her nightclothes. It didn’t seem like Gryffindors went to bed at normal times. Weasley wasn’t wearing anything like pyjamas, nor was Granger. He rolled his eyes.

“Malfoy. Nice Patronus. It looked ominous.” Draco was surprised Weasley knew that word.

“What was it, did you see?”

The redhead shook his head. “Nah, it looked more like a large glowing blob, really. What were you thinking about when you made it?”

Draco felt his cheeks pinking, though the cold wind disguised it. “Baby.” Ron nodded at him.

“Land!” Hermione finally called out. He snapped his gaze to her, to see her eyes open and her face pale. From what he’d gathered she was either afraid of flying or heights in general. He twisted his body around to see a mass of dotted lights stretching in lines, like a grid.

“We need to land somewhere no one can see us,” Harry said while they were still in a close knit group. “We don’t want to run the risk of exposure and being found out at the same time.” He pointed to a blank spot in the middle. “Focus on the less lit areas.”

“That’s probably a body of water you know,” Hermione said to him quietly.

He turned his head and smiled at her. “Yeah, or it could be a park. No one will think anything of a group of teenagers exiting a park. But it’s-” He grabbed Ron’s hand to look at his watch. “Blimey, it’s after two. Small towns like this, hardly anyone is awake anyway.”

Luckily, it was a park. They landed on the ground softly, Hermione getting on her knees to feel the grass. Draco laughed, though he was very happy to get off that broom. He hoped they didn’t have to get back on it anytime soon. He’d thought he’d miss it, what with being banned from playing Quidditch, but pregnancy and flying just didn’t mix with him. “Now what?” he asked.

“’Mione, you’re of age so using your wand won’t get us tracked, will it?” She shook her head. “Great, could you use a _Point Me_ to look for an empty house?” he suggested, hoping that it was possible at the same time.

“It’s a bit vague,” Hermione said, her voice coming back to her now that she was on solid ground. “I can try though.” She held out her hand and placed her wand in her palm to lie down. She thought about how her house was when she was on holiday with her family, and tried to keep that image in her head of any houses nearby that would suit their purpose. She opened her eyes and said, “Point me,” in a clear voice, just how Flitwick had taught them in first year. The wand in her hand began to spin. She lowered her hand, waiting for it to stop and when it did, it pointed further east and began to move forward. They watched it floating away long enough that it stopped.

“I think we’re supposed to follow,” Draco said in a deadpan voice and began to walk, grateful to get some feeling back into his legs after having them hooked around Harry Potter and his broom for the last hour or so. As they walked forward, Hermione’s wand began to move again, proving Draco’s theory correct.

The wand led them out of the park and turned left at the sign that said _Carr Bridge Park_. There were no cars as their group walked along the pavement. It wasn’t a surprise, as muggles in countryside villages tended to be in bed at this hour of the morning. Hermione’s wand turned left again onto Carr Road. A few houses in, it stopped and Hermione reached for it, catching it as it dropped.

“Hermione, here.” Harry walked up to the house and looked around before jumping over the short wall that separated it from the pavement and the road. Hermione followed after him, opening the gate instead. She looked down at the stoop and then back up towards Harry and smiled.

Harry stepped back to glance up at the two story house before looking up and down the road. “Come on in,” he said to the group on the street and opened the gate again for them to walk through.

As he walked back up the path, Hermione turned to him. “There isn’t an alarm. There are no signs, and when I looked through the letterbox, there’s no console or keypad.”

Draco bent with his knees and picked up a bunch of envelopes. “What are these?”

Harry glanced down at the papers on the doorstep. There were four. Draco was holding mail, probably bills, and Hermione held a couple of the same in her hands too. She must have taken them out to look trough the slot. “Well,” Hermione said. “Here goes nothing.” She shut her eyes and held out her wand again, “ _Alohomora_ ,” she intoned and opened her eyes to see the door swinging open. There was no beeping of an alarm signal. They would just have to wait to see if the police arrived from a silent alarm. Hermione sighed anyway. “Thank Merlin, it’s beginning to rain. She went inside. “I’m going to have to teach you some cloaking spells to cover up our existence from neighbours.”

“I can’t Hermione, I’m not of age.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Wandless magic isn’t traceable, Harry. Why do you think everyone has to have a wand?”

Hermione walked straight past the living room, glancing inside at the decor, and towards the kitchen. She looked around and bent over the sink to look around into the garden. There was a high wall, blocking the kitchen from the neighbours across the alley, behind the garden. She drew the curtains anyway and turned on the light.

“How long are we going to be here?” Draco asked, following her inside. The two were talking as if they were moving in.

Harry chuckled. “About two months.”

The group turned to him. He’d been in the fridge and had a carton of orange juice in his hand. He took a sip from the carton and pointed at the calendar stuck there magnetically. All the months were laid out in colourful motifs and the month of March was clear on it. Four days ago, ‘ _Cruise!!!_ ’ was highlighted in a fluorescent yellow highlighter until May thirtieth. Hermione shook her head.

“Someone needs to educate these people on home security. I don’t feel bad about this at all. I can almost say they are asking for squatters.”

“We should stick to one room instead of many,” Harry said and the others agreed. “We can put up wards on that one room and then base ourselves there. It’s safer if we stick together, anyway.” He walked out of the kitchen. “Let’s see what we’re working with.” He climbed the stairs to get to the first floor. The first room he came to was a bathroom, the second was a bedroom. On the right of the short corridor were a smaller bedroom and then a bedroom larger than them all. It even had a bathroom attached to it.

“Two bathrooms. Useful.” He went to the window and looked outside. The house next door had no windows looking at them. _Perfect_ he thought to himself, smiling. He shut the heavy curtains. “They have radiators, which mean they have central heating. I just need to find the pilot and light it. Hermione?” he waited for her to turn to him. “Can you set the wards on this room, I’m gonna go set us up with some heat and some hot water.” Now that he knew he could use his magic, iffy as he was wandless, it made things much easier on them all.

Pansy stepped forward. “I turned seventeen in October.”

Harry smiled. “Then you can help her,” he said and stepped aside for her to pass and follow Hermione outside.

The first time Harry woke up, he was being shaken awake to move over. He turned and looked up sleepily before looking around the room. Nothing looked out of the ordinary, until he got another shove. “What?”

“Move over, Potter. Pansy is snoring and I can’t take it so close to my ear.”

Harry had found an armchair downstairs and shakily levitated it upstairs and into the room next to the window. He’d elongated it and widened it so that it could fit his frame and turned it so that it faced the closed curtains. The process was easier than trying to transfigure something into a bed, since his wandless ability was limited and his transfigured object was likely to turn back during the night. This way, at least he’d still have a chair. It was comfortable enough that he’d fallen asleep soon after he’d come out of the shower and stolen a jumper and a pair of trousers from the ‘man’ of the house’s wardrobe. Hermione had eyed him with disapproval but he’d noticed that when she came back from having her own shower, she had ended up searching through a wardrobe too. By then, the room had warmed considerably and the biting chill from outdoors was gone. He’d settled down with a quilt he’d found in the smallest bedroom and found sleep quite easily.

The same couldn’t be said for Draco.

Harry could hear Pansy snoring. He shuffled over to the edge so that Draco could climb over him and lie down. He soon fell asleep again, comfortable and warm.

The second time Harry woke up, he was being shaken awake by Draco moving over him again. “What?” he said sleepily and received a shaking head.

“Bathroom,” Draco’s voice assured him and he nodded, turning over. He idly waited for Draco to finish, so he wouldn’t be surprised by Draco climbing over him again. It was only when he realised that he’d drifted off in the meantime that he snapped awake.

Draco was gone. He sat up and looked around the room. Pansy was quieter now, perhaps he’d gone back to the only real bed in the room. Pansy and Hermione were sleeping soundly side by side, while Ron and Blaise shared a transfigured mattress on the floor. He wished he was able to cock an eyebrow at that like Draco was. He’d noticed that over the course of the last term and this one that the two had become friendly. It was still odd for him, though, seeing Ron sleeping, willingly, next to a Slytherin. He continued to scan the room. Draco wasn’t there. He turned to the door, suddenly, realising it was open.

Hermione had set wards, so the door being open couldn’t be possible unless she’d taken them down. Or someone else had. _Is Draco capable of wandless magic?_ he thought to himself and pushed his quilt off his legs. He left the room and was about to close it when something his best friend had said surfaced in his mind.

_“It’s like a deadbolt, we can get out, but no one can get in.”_

Perhaps Draco had left the room for some air, it was really warm in the bedroom. Maybe he’d left the door open so that he could get back in when he was done. Nevertheless, Harry’s stomach was turning in somersaults at the thought of them being followed to Carr Bridge, of Draco being caught unaware as he left the en suite bathroom and dragged outside to lay a trap for everyone else. Quietly, he took the stairs one at a time, listening for anything untoward. When he reached the entry hall, he looked around and saw nothing in the living room.

_A clink._

His head snapped to the back of the house, where the kitchen was. He narrowed his eyes listening for it again. He tensed when he heard another noise and walked cautiously toward it. Then he saw Draco enter his line of vision as the blond visited the fridge Hermione had outlined to him earlier as she gave the purebloods a tour. He witnessed Draco bend over, searching through the sudden light that flooded the kitchen when he opened the door, and lost the tension in his muscles immediately. His head cocked to the side as he watched him, then he shook his head as he realised he was watching the blond’s arse. He sighed at himself and made the final few steps into the kitchen, wincing as his feet touched the cold tile floor.

“This doesn’t look like the bathroom. Did you get lost?” he asked and almost smiled when Draco spun around, his hand on his chest, probably to try and stop his heart from beating too hard. Harry wished him luck, his hadn’t stopped yet. “You could warn a guy when you’re taking unscheduled trips to the kitchen. I just woke up and you were gone, and you’re outside of the wards.”

“I was bringing it all back to the bedroom,” Draco replied, closing the fridge door.

Harry stared at the island counter. There was a myriad of items there ranging from coffee to pasta. “Er, what were you going to make?” he asked, thoroughly confused.

Draco shrugged, walking to the counter and lifting a jar of jam. “A sandwich, I guess.” His eyes roamed the kitchen as he stood. “Can’t find anything though.”

Harry walked up to the island. He eyed the pepper sauce warily before he did a double take at some of the other items Draco had taken out. _Is that a lemon?_ He shook his head. “Sit down, I’ll do it for you.” _Before you poison yourself unintentionally._

He searched through the items and took out some of the better ingredients and settled for simple pasta with cheese. He filled a saucepan he found in the cupboard with water and put it on the stove to boil. Using a little push, he heated the water faster with a heating charm. It was boiling in seconds, so he threw in two handfuls of the hard pasta twists and put the bag back into a cupboard. He took the time in between to replace the items he knew came from the fridge and left out the cheese and the bottle of Italian seasoning and the bottle of Ragu, when he noticed it there. He checked the best before date as he shut the door.

“I thought we had to stay within the wards?” Draco said as he walked to the table off the side of the kitchen and stared at Harry over the counter. He took a seat.

Harry wasn’t really paying attention, though he did answer as he turned down the stove to stop the pasta from boiling over the rim. “I say a lot of things I don’t mean,” he replied absently. He located a grater under the sink and began grating a handful of cheese. He shook his head at the owners, everyone knew that when you took a long holiday you weren’t supposed to leave perishable items in your fridge. “Though, I must say,” he continued as he grated, “even in the face of impending doom, I would like nothing better than to make you something to eat.” A silence fell after his words and he turned to see Draco staring at him. He gave him an odd look. “What?”

Draco shook his head. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” Harry snorted and turned off the stove after testing the pasta with a fork. He drained the pot and emptied the small bowl of cheese he’d grated, stirring it around in the pot. He opened the bottle of Ragu and sniffed it. Deeming it edible, he poured enough of it into the hot pot to coat the twists and then put it back into the fridge. He sprinkled in some of the dried Italian seasoning after that and continued to stir. Leaving it for a while, he went to the crockery cupboard he’d found on his hunt around the kitchen earlier and took out a bowl and a glass.

Draco smelled the bowl of cheese and tomato pasta Harry placed before him and thought he’d died and gone to heaven.

“I didn’t know you could cook.”

Harry smiled. “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me.” At Draco’s penetrating stare, he swallowed and looked away. “B – but this isn’t cooking anyway. This falls under the category of survival food. Like toast, people who don’t know how to make something like this, pretty much deserve to starve.” At least, that’s what Aunt Petunia had said as she taught him how to feed himself when she, Dudley and Vernon were gone on _their_ holidays.

Harry cleared his throat and rested his head on his arms. Now that he’d found Draco and the feeling of dread was gone, tiredness returned. He closed his eyes as he listened to Draco eat.

“Oh Merlin, that’s so good.” That was unnecessary. Harry could tell how good it was from the sounds he was making. He swallowed and sat up. So much for closing his eyes, it only enhanced the sounds. The moans. He looked away.

“I need to make you a drink, too,” he said remembering vaguely something Pomfrey had said about getting in lots of fluids and healthy foods. “You have to keep up your fluid intake.” He stood up and went back to the fridge. He knew he’d taken that glass out for something. Filling it halfway with juice, he walked back to the table and rested it down in front of Draco to see the blond’s bowl was empty. He stared.

“I was hungry.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “I can see that.” He picked up the bowl. “Come on. You need sleep.” He looked up at the clock in the kitchen. There was enough light from the street lights behind the back garden wall to illuminate the kitchen. It was after four. _Christ_.

Draco preceded him up the stairs and went to their bed by the window. _Our bed?_ Harry shook his head and closed the door softly. He rounded his creation and sat down. Draco was lying down, staring at him.

“Thank you,” he said and yawned.

Harry nodded. “No problem, you feeling better?”

It was Draco’s turn to nod. “Much, yeah.” He sighed. “I haven’t eaten since five yesterday.” For a pregnant person that was a long time, Harry supposed.

He shrugged. “I’m just glad I can help. Glad you aren’t telling me to fuck off anymore.” He gave Draco a humoured look and lay down beside him.

Draco chuckled quietly. “I was angry.” Harry snorted again, that was an understatement. Draco turned and propped his head up on his hand. “Need I remind you of what I was going through then? And of what you were putting me through?” Harry swallowed. He didn’t need to hear of all the kinds of arsehole he’d been a couple of months ago. He was there for it and felt guilty enough without Draco recounting it. He shook his head. Draco nodded and lay back down on his side. He found it uncomfortable to sleep on his back and he was a little scared to lie down on his stomach.

The warmth under the quilt they shared was greater than the room at large, but Draco felt a flush come over him as he lay there staring at a vague outline of Harry’s face. The room was absent of light, save the glow around the curtains from the streetlamps outside, though their eyes had adjusted by now and Draco could see an outline of the Gryffindor in the dark. If the curtains had been open, he would have seen a lot more due to the streetlamps outside, but Harry’d closed them soon after walking into the room. Draco lay his head down on the pillow.

“Have you thought of what he’d be like?” He felt more than saw Harry’s head turn towards him. “Our son.” Merlin it still felt strange to say that. Nonetheless, he forced himself to continue. “He’ll probably look like you.”

Harry snorted. “God, I hope not.”

Draco frowned. “Why not?”

This time, Harry turned completely. “I’ve lived my life, so far, recognised for how I look. Everyone tells me I look like my dad, but I have my mother’s eyes. I’ve seen my face on stationery cases and brooms. My son, I’ll take him however I get him, but his life will be easier if he doesn’t look like me.”

Draco stared, though he didn’t see much. “You don’t have your mother’s eyes,” he said.

“What?” Harry asked in quiet surprise.

Draco shook his head, regretting that he’d said anything at all. “I er, I noticed before that you have brown in your eyes. It’s hardly noticeable, though.” He could feel Harry moving his legs, sliding them under the quilt. “I wouldn’t mind our son having your eyes. They’re yours, no one else’s.” Merlin, what was wrong with him? Next he’d be bloody _crying_.

“I didn’t think anyone had noticed that,” Harry whispered, almost in awe.

Draco chuckled quietly. “I don’t think many people have been as close to you as I was to see something like that.” His cheeks dusted pink, remembering _why_ he’d been so close.

“No,” Harry said equally as quiet. Draco jumped as he felt Harry’s warm hand brush against his own. Harry took it, lacing their fingers together. “Not many people have.” Harry took a deep breath, his fingers sliding against Draco’s as he leaned against him, pressing him into the back of the chair, and kissed him. He let go of Draco’s hand and cupped the side of his face as Draco ran his hand down the material covering Harry’s stomach to find the hem of his jumper. He tugged it upwards enough to run his hands back up the searing heat of his skin. Harry pressed closer, thrusting a leg between Draco’s to get closer to him. Draco’s mouth opened against his in an aroused gasp as his hips became independent creatures. It felt so good and it had been so _long_. A low moan escaped his lips as he thrust forward, forgetting for a moment that his friends were just on the other side of the chair. Harry turned to lie on his back, pulling Draco with him. Draco fell forward, planting his knees in the soft cushioning of the chair on either side of Harry’s hips.

He was mindless as the friction increased against his erection. He shuddered at his first thrust. _Oh, so much better,_ Draco thought to himself as he could now use his weight to thrust harder.

Harry pulled Draco’s hips flush with his own, and held on as Draco sought completion. The soft gasps in his ear spurred him on as his hips fell into sync with Draco’s.

“Touch me,” Draco whispered in his ear and he paused, even as Draco continued. “Please, _please_.” The plea was urgent and so arousing. He had no idea Draco’s voice could sound like that. His hand moved of its own volition into the pyjama bottoms Draco had cleaned before re-wearing. He’d taken off the robe once it got too warm in the room. Draco’s upper body fell on him, as Harry’s hand made skin contact on his hard cock. He winced when he felt the bite Draco was putting on his neck to stop him from crying out in pleasure.

Draco’s hips had paused and his hand fisted in the quilt and the pillow as he bit down on Harry’s neck. Good Merlin, he wanted to scream. He whimpered instead, desperately trying to keep quiet. The stimulation too great, he pulled Harry’s hand away. He could feel the confusion emanating from the brunet as he sat up. He cautiously glanced over the back of the chair to see if he’d woken anyone up, straining to hear deep breathing and hoping to get it. There wasn’t a sound in the room and he wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.

Harry sat up. “I cast a silencing charm.” Draco turned to look at him in the darkness. The edges of the drawn heavy curtain were lit from the streetlamps outside and now that his eyes had adjusted, he could see more than an outline of Harry’s face. “Moody taught me. Part of surveillance and-” He was cut off as Draco yanked on his jumper to pull Harry to him, covering his mouth with his in a hungry kiss. His hands found the hem of his jumper again and practically ripped it off him. He threw it behind him and it landed on the arm of the chair, joining his robe. Harry’s hands did the same with Draco’s pyjama shirt, though he took more care in removing it first.

He’d seen himself in the mirror before and others had seen him naked for reasons just like this, but this was the first time Draco had been topless, while pregnant, in front of someone else. It made him self-conscious, but he was unable to look away once their eyes met again. He knew Harry had noticed the sudden cooler atmosphere. The brunet had narrowed his eyes slightly, speculatively, surveying him before leaning forward and capturing his mouth in another kiss. When they parted, he purposefully ran his hands down Draco’s chest and his slightly protruding abdomen before tugging at the waistband of his pyjamas so he could get his hand inside. Draco’s hands went to Harry’s shoulders, holding on as Harry’s hand enclosed his hard cock once more, he leaned forward, beginning to rock, straining against Harry's hand, but not getting as close as he wanted. He opened his eyes, unaware that he’d closed them and the sight of the muscles flexing in Harry's exposed arm caused a flash of heat to flow through him. It increased when the Gryffindor reached into his own pants to pull out his own cock and align them, stroking them both evenly in one fist. Those green eyes were focused solely on him, though, taking note of his every reaction and movement. Pansy had told him before that he’d trained Harry in the Slytherin ways, he’d trained him to _see_ , though Draco had no idea that he’d done it. Harry just took notice of things. He finally took notice of _him_. It was endearing in a way, arousing in others. He couldn’t deny the searing sensation of heat that overcame him at that thought. He leaned forward and kissed him again, his tongue forcing its way inside Harry’s mouth, as he came all over Harry’s hand, feeling the tensing and release of Harry’s frame as he followed Draco over the edge.

Harry awoke to the smell of bacon. He was lying on his stomach, a heavy weight pressed against his back. When he opened his eyes, he noticed that the curtain was open and Blaise was grinning down at him.

“Well, hello,” he said. His dark brown eyes looking wicked, Harry felt wariness overtake him. Blaise’s eyebrows rose at his reaction.

Harry then remembered last night. He was glad he’d put back on his jumper, anticipating this exact same scenario. Draco hadn’t bothered, too sated to care. He’d fallen asleep shortly after Harry had cleaned them up and Harry had joined him, exhausted physically, mentally and emotionally from everything that had happened in the last twelve hours. He tried to sit up, but failed, the weight on his back refusing to move.

“I wouldn’t bother,” Blaise said quietly, crouching down. “He’s a heavy sleeper after sex. You’re better off eating it here.” Harry looked up at him, received a wink and a grin and couldn’t be arsed to feel embarrassed. He was far too tired for that. He picked up a slice of crispy bacon from the plate and chomped on it. He wondered what time it was and wondered what time it was. The bright sky outside meant it was probably after midday. He must have been pretty exhausted. He groaned tiredly and rubbed his eyes with his other hand.

“Where’d you get this from?” His voice was still laced with sleep, but it was clearing with the spearing light from outside. “The fridge was empty when I went down last night.”

Blaise cocked an eyebrow, both at Harry’s non-reaction to his goading and the fact that he had left the room last night. He was expecting at least a flush of embarrassment or maybe some hiding under the quilt. Instead, Harry gestured for him to have a seat. Blaise sat cross-legged on the carpet and put the plate on the floor in front of him. Harry picked at another slice. It tasted so good. _Seriously, where did this come from?_

“Mmm, smells good.” A hand snaked out of the quilt from where it had been resting on his back, and Draco’s body followed it. A head appeared in his peripheral vision. “Can I have some?”

Harry let out a chuckle and batted away the questing hand that was heading towards his breakfast. “Can I get up first?” he asked the sleepy voice.

Draco collapsed against him again. He felt a rush of air expel from his lungs against his will. His free arm flailed and he registered Blaise moving back before he was hit. He apologised and got a nod in return. “But you’re _comfortable_ ,” Draco complained. “This is the best I’ve felt in weeks.”

Harry sighed. So, he was comfortable. That probably meant Draco wouldn’t be moving for a while. He gestured for Blaise to come closer. “Have you all decided where we’re going from here?” They couldn’t stay in this place for too long, people would notice.

Blaise shook his head. “First priority was food.” He smiled when Draco’s hand reached out and down for the plate. He probably thought no one was paying him any attention. Harry however turned his head as much as he could to give the blond the stink eye.

“Don’t mind me,” Draco said and stole a slice of bacon and some toast.

Harry rolled his eyes. He relaxed again and turned to Blaise. That sounded a lot like Ron. “I bet I can figure out who decided that.” The arm returned to its cove under the quilt, followed by the bacon, wrapped in the slice of toast, which disappeared with it.

Blaise smiled at the comical display. “I wouldn’t bet against you,” he replied to Harry’s comment.

Harry looked down to his plate. He’d only been given three pieces of bacon and one slice of toast. His plate was now empty. A part of him knew it wouldn’t be right to ask for more, but he was really hungry. “Really, though, where did you get it from?”

Blaise again shook his head. “Really, though,” he repeated, “don’t ask, especially Granger. We _just_ talked her off the ledge.”

Harry rolled his lips between his teeth. That meant they’d broken the law. Hermione had priorities and breaking a rule like stealing took precedence on her worry scale over most things like death or pain. If they were going to keep this up, it was going to take money.

A realisation came over Harry. He turned his head to face Draco, who’d actually gone back to sleep after eating the rest of Harry’s breakfast. Hmm, he looked different asleep. But he needed the sleep, so he let it go. He turned to Blaise instead. “Would you give me a hand?”

Blaise eyed them warily. “I don’t know, are you wearing clothes under there?” His eyebrow quirked and he leaned back on his hands.

Harry rolled his eyes. “I need to talk to Hermione.”

A serious look took over Blaise’s face. “No, you really don’t. Seriously, I’ve never seen anyone get so worked up over a little recreational shopping.”

With his words, he proved Harry right that the breakfast he had eaten was contraband goods. He sighed. “I can calm her down in two hours. You’ll never even know she was the same person.” Blaise was watching him. “I promise.”

With a put upon sigh, Blaise leaned forward and moved the plate out of the way. Getting up on his knees, he lifted an edge of the quilt and one of Draco’s arms. “Woah!” he dropped the quilt and Draco’s arm. The blond didn’t even stir. “You said you were wearing clothes!”

Harry frowned. “I am.”

Blaise gave him an obvious look. “Did you not know that the word ‘you’ can be used for a collective as well as a single person?” Over the shock, he reached under the quilt and raised Draco’s arm again. Harry, now free of Draco’s arm, turned and peeked under the quilt. Draco was naked.

Blaise smiled in victory. There was the flush of embarrassment. It was only a matter of time. He may have been learning the way of Slytherins, but he was still a Gryffindor, through and through.

Under the quilt, Harry’s hand was moving and when Draco turned over, irritated in his sleep that someone was trying to wake him up, he realised the boy had been trying to move him. Harry slipped out of his makeshift bed and picked up his plate.

“How was it?” Blaise asked as they left the room. The door was open, so he left it that way. The wards were up, but they still only activated with the door closed. Harry didn’t trust that Draco, still wanting to sleep, would actually get up to open the door for anyone. He decided to just let it be.

The scent of bacon and toast got stronger as he walked downstairs. He knew what Blaise was talking about. He would be stupid not to. “Different.”

Blaise cocked an eyebrow. “Different?” he asked.

Harry paused at the bottom of the stairs and turned to him. “Yeah, different. In that, he has all the same equipment I do.” He walked around him towards the back of the house and the kitchen, leaving Blaise gaping. Hermione was nursing a cup of coffee. She startled upon seeing him, her eyes filled with guilt. Harry smiled at her and gestured to the back garden. “Need to talk to you.”

Hermione looked like she was ready to begin sobbing. She wrapped herself in her commandeered robe and followed him outside. Harry shut the door behind them, blocking the other members of the house from hearing what they were saying.

Pansy got up and put her plate and cup in the sink. Ron moved aside to let her and moved back into place after she left. He drank his tea and looked out the window. Harry always made Hermione feel better. Things would be okay once they were done talking.

“What do you think he’s telling her?”

Ron shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know. Harry’s always had a gift with her.” His point was proven when Hermione suddenly broke out into a grin and jumped on Harry holding him in a tight hug. Harry looked stunned for a moment, but recovered quickly, hugging her back. He turned to the window and gave Ron a thumbs up. Ron saluted him with his mug. “See? It pays to have Harry around.” He grinned at Blaise and put his cup in the sink planning on washing up later. Blaise bit into his bottom lip and eyed the pair outside before following.

“Wake up sleepy head, it’s after three and you can’t stay asleep forever. It’s not healthy.” Draco groaned and turned over. He squinted, letting in a little bit of light and, upon seeing Blaise, decided on pulling the quilt back over his head.

“I brought you _your_ breakfast.”

That made him pause. He pushed back a corner of the quilt and peered out. “Is it the same as before?” Now that the horrible gut churning sickness he’d had in the months before was finally dying away, he was actually able to eat everything he loved, with a few extras thrown in for fun. He eyed the plate Blaise had in his hand and sat up. He then noticed Pansy leaning over the back of the chair.

“Why are you naked, Draco?”

He took the plate and moved his feet so Blaise could sit down. “Potter gave me a hand job last night and I couldn’t be bothered to redress afterwards. It was too warm.” He shivered. “Or at least, it was – what happened to the heat?” He bit into the hot toast. _Mmm, yum_ , his mind supplied. Out loud, he groaned.

Pansy, still stunned, was rendered silent. Blaise answered him instead. “The heating is on a timer, or something. That’s what Ron said. He told us that it would come on by four. That way, it will have been on for an hour by the time the muggles that live here finish work.” Draco cocked an eyebrow at the use of Weasley’s first name, but let it slide. He was having a kid with Potter and engaging in sexual acts with the boy, so he had no right to judge.

Over her speechlessness, Pansy added in a scandalous manner, “Muggles have to pay to get heat, so they time it alongside their schedules to get heat only when they need it.”

Draco frowned and chewed on his bacon. “That’s barbaric,” he said once he’d swallowed. “Who does that to people?” The other two shrugged. Draco looked around. Weasley was sitting on the main bed and watching a box with moving pictures on it. He seemed enraptured. “What is that?” The rest of the room was empty. “Where’re Potter and Granger?”

Blaise was looking out the window. “They went out. Potter had to calm Granger down after we did some ‘free range’ shopping earlier in a muggle shop. She feels guilty, even though without it, we wouldn’t have been fed.” He shook his head and then turned to Draco, remembering something. “Why did Potter go downstairs last night?”

Draco put aside his plate and buried himself in his warm quilt to stave off some of the cold. He felt around for the pyjama pants he’d kicked off during the night and pulled them from under Blaise’s arse, where they were trapped. “He followed me. I got hungry and went to the kitchen to make a sandwich.” He chuckled. “Apparently, the boy can cook. I nearly came when I ate it, and it was only pasta and cheese. Ridiculously tasty.”

Blaise cocked an eyebrow. “He would have been handy this morning.”

Draco grinned lasciviously. “Oh. He _was_.”

Blaise lay back and laughed along with Pansy at Draco’s joke. Draco tapped Blaise’s knee and gestured for his robe when he looked at him. Blaise handed him the pyjama top and robe together as they were both hanging off the side of the chair. “He was good then?” Pansy asked, her eyes alight with mischief.

Draco’s nose scrunched up at that. “I feel kind of weird discussing this with you.”

“I feel weird hearing it,” Ron said, his eyes still on the television screen. He didn’t move, though it was obvious his attention was split. He’d certainly fooled them.

Draco dragged his pyjama top over his head and got up. “I’m going to the bathroom.” He got up and walked into the en suite. By the time he came back, the others were all on the bed watching the same moving pictures that Weasley had appeared mesmerised by. Weasley was drinking what looked like juice out of a glass. “Do you know where they went?” He directed his question to Weasley and put on his robe. The room was biting. He glanced up at the clock. Half past two.

“Diagon Alley,” Ron said taking a sip of juice. His eyes never left the screen.

“To do what?” Draco asked moving so that he could see what they were all staring avidly at.

Ron shrugged where he sat next to Blaise. “Didn’t say.”

Draco frowned. “You didn’t a-”

“Shh!” Pansy said sharply. “You’re distracting me!” she said and grabbed a small device from Ron’s hand, pressing one of the many buttons on it. The sound level of talking on the screen increased. Draco raised his eyebrows in shock.

“What is this?” he asked.

“Television,” they replied in sync. Draco stepped back once and decided he would leave them alone.

“Right. Well, I’m going downstairs,” he said. When he got no reply, he realised that he’d lost them all. “Right,” he said again, grabbed his plate and hurried to the bedroom door. He left it open and went downstairs.

The kitchen still smelled like bacon and the island in the centre was now littered with food in various packs and containers. He sat on one of the stools and read through them all one by one. When he was done, he looked around. Surely they couldn’t leave everything out here? There were cold things, like the other three packs of raw bacon he could see on the countertop. There was also a large block of cheese. He wondered how they’d been able to get it all but then realised, they’d had Granger and Pansy with them and had, most likely, shrank everything, or disillusioned it. _Or both_. They’d said Granger was feeling guilty, maybe that was why.

Harry – Draco paused, realising the Gryffindor’s name had even bled into his thoughts and shook his head. _One hand job and a couple of kisses and I’m taken. Honestly, Draco_. He picked up the cheese. Harry had taken cheese out of the fridge last night. It was still cold, so maybe that’s where everything else cold was supposed to be.

 _Fuck it_. Cold storage was always good. If he was wrong, they’d just have to move it.

Halfway through all the ‘shopping’, Draco heard a click. He froze and looked up. He then looked around the kitchen when he didn’t hear anything else besides a low hum. There was a white box on the wall, in the corner, making the noise. As he got closer, he realised the noise wasn’t coming from the box but the cupboard next to it. There was a copper pipe leading into the cupboard and Draco opened it slowly. A massive tank met him and he stood staring at it for a while. It was marked with a large logo on the front. Draco bent to read it. “British Gas.” He cocked an eyebrow and took a closer look. There were two dials attached to the wall adjacent to the white box, outside of the cupboard. He squinted to read the words. “Cylinder Thermostat?” he questioned himself. “What does that mean?” There were buttons next to it. One of them on the right read: ‘Heating Advance’ and on the left, the other read ‘Hot Water Advance.’ He cocked an eyebrow and pressed the latter. A little arrow on the screen moved from ‘Twice’ to ‘Once’. He pressed it again. He jumped when the little arrow moved from ‘Once’ to ‘On’ and the tank started to boil.

Draco grinned.

Harry and Hermione apparated into the back garden and walked into the house through the back door. Most of the items on the island from that morning had been put away, mainly the things meant to go into the fridge. Harry was surprised. He’d thought they would still be there as the only ones who’d know where they went had left the house. Hermione was in much better spirits than she was this morning and he was happy for it. There wouldn’t be too much of it from now. They walked upstairs and knocked on the door. The wards were still up so that was a good sign. Blaise answered. He was dressed differently. As Harry looked around the room, he realised everyone was dressed differently. He frowned.

“You’ve been going through their clothes again?” Hermione said exasperated.

“Where’s Draco?” he asked them.

Pansy pointed to the en suite, peering around Blaise as he climbed back on to the bed. “He’s taking a bath.”

They were all staring at the TV. Harry cocked his head to the side and then checked his watch. It was only four o’clock. The boiler should have only just come on. It was then that he realised the house was really warm. “Why is the house so warm?” He went up to a radiator to feel comforting warmth encasing his hand.

“Malfoy put on the radiators upstairs and switched on the hot water so we could shower. He’s taking advantage of his payment.”

“Which is?” Hermione said.

“Us leaving him alone as he relaxes in some hot water.”

Harry’s eyebrows rose. “How did he do all that?”

Blaise and Ron shrugged, but Pansy held up a small booklet. “This was attached to the-” she broke off and read something on the inside page. “Boiler,” she concluded. “It was tied to it with a flimsy piece of string. Draco read through it and set everything up for us. It was pretty easy. Muggles explain stuff really well.”

Harry and Hermione shared a look. “Did you put away the groceries?” Hermione asked. “Well, most of the groceries.”

All of them shook their heads. Hermione narrowed her eyes in thought. From the looks of it, none of them had moved save to shower.

“Have you let Draco do everything since we’ve been gone?” Harry asked. They all nodded. Pansy went further and hissed out, “Shh! The best part is coming.”

“Can’t believe he’s going to let her go through with that. She’s such a two-faced cow,” Ron said, disgusted.

Pansy was shaking her head. “I know, right?” she agreed.

“He needs to fire her. If he doesn’t she’s going to take him for all he has,” Blaise added.

Harry and Hermione shared another look. Harry sighed. “Go unpack the stuff we bought, I need to see if he’s okay.” Hermione nodded once and left the room, keeping the door open. If she didn’t, the group of television addicts on the bed might cause her to stay outside all night.

Harry knocked once on the door. He heard a sigh resonate from inside. “I thought we agreed that you would leave me alone, people? I already cooked for you, isn’t that enough?”

Harry frowned and glance back across the room to the group on the bed. He shook his head. He shouldn’t have taught Ron how to work the TV. Biggest mistake ever. “It’s me,” he called out and twisted the knob to open the door. He walked into a dim room and switched on the light. Draco squinted at the sudden onslaught and put up his hands, covered in bubbles, to block it. Harry then realised the room was lined with seven candles. He switched the light off and it returned to Draco’s dimly lit paradise. The blond sighed. “Planning to get yourself into bed?” he said amused and shut the door.

“Hmm, if that’s the case I’ve been getting lucky for a while.” He waggled his eyebrows and Harry laughed.

“I dread to think of the condition of that water.”

“I’ve refilled it three times since I’ve been in here. Look.” He held up his hand. Harry wiped off the bubbles to uncover Draco’s hand. It was pruned. “This water is divine. I’d live here for the entire two months if I could.”

“We don’t even know if we’ll be here for the whole two months. We may have to move.”

Draco snorted from his position under the bubbles. “Granger has set up a library in the spare room, you realise? She’s nested.” Harry was surprised. But then, he hadn’t really ventured around the house since he’d woken up.

“You’ve been busy,” he said and knelt next to the tub on the floor. He propped his chin on his arms where they rested on the edge of the tub. Draco moved, the water swishing as he moved closer. He mirrored Harry’s stance. The tub was bigger than it looked.

Draco stared him in the eye. “I had to do something. The two able to actually run this place were gone and the ones left became zombified by that silver box in the bedroom. It’s kind of scary what it turns them into. I’ve never seen Pansy so mesmerised.” He was glad that she seemed to be over her Quentin Turner lapse, though. Draco cocked his head to the side. His hair was already wet and plastered to his head, so it didn’t even move. It reminded Harry of the days when Draco used to gel his hair down into a form of helmet. He smiled at the memory. “What?” Draco said, his brow marring.

Harry shook his head. Draco didn’t need to know what he was thinking of. “Nothing. Honestly, it’s nothing.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed playfully, but he let it go. “Where did you go?” he asked.

Harry sighed. That was a long story. “Well, first we visited Surrey. Then we went to Diagon Alley.”

“Why?” Draco asked.

Harry smiled and dropped out of his relaxed stance to lean to the side. He pulled something out of the back pocket of his jeans. Draco eyed the material he’d seen a lot of students wearing on the weekends when there wasn’t any school. Harry wasn’t wearing them when they’d ridden on the broom to Carr Bridge. There also wasn’t anything like them in the closets in the bedroom.

“Where did you get those?” he asked as Harry held up a leather wallet. Harry pulled out a small rectangle of hard material. “ _Barclays Connect_ ,” he read. “What’s that?”

“This is how we are going to live for the next couple of months,” Harry said taking it back and putting it back in its slot. He folded the wallet and slid it back into his pocket. “Gringotts is linked to muggle banks, did you know?” Draco shook his head. “I opened an account after getting my birth certificate from Little Whinging to show the goblins. I also had to get my Hogwarts letter as proof of address. They opened a muggle account for me and transferred some funds across.” He paused when Draco took off his glasses. “We’re set for a long while now. If I need more, I can just send them a letter to transfer some more.”

“Didn’t know you had money,” Draco said fiddling with Harry’s hair. It was softer than it looked. “The way you dressed was a travesty upon fashion. If you could afford it, why didn’t you dress better?”

“To piss you off, obviously,” Harry said and smiled at the disgruntled look Draco sported when he tried to smooth down a section that wouldn’t lay down, no matter what. It felt nice though, so Harry didn’t discourage it.

Draco laughed, even as he tried to figure out how to conquer that lock. He dipped his hands in the water and then passed them through Harry’s hair. It didn’t stick back up. “Huh. Water doth tameth the beast,” he said grinning. “Who knew?”

Harry laughed, his hands travelling across the short distance between them to touch the ends of Draco’s hair. The wet strands were soft and lighter than the skin on his fingers. “So blond.”

Draco snorted. “Very poetic.”

Harry smiled and tried again. “I’ll give him my eyes, if you give him your hair.”

Draco grinned. “The world won’t be able to resist him.” The room was hot, which explained the flush on Draco’s cheeks, but Harry was feeling some serious hot flashes. If he wasn’t already sitting down, he would have fainted from the hot look Draco was giving him. Draco was quiet now, staring at him and Harry’s mind went blank. He was starting to feel a little self-conscious and stupid, but he was unable to look away, even as Draco moved closer.

“Sorry,” the blond apologised. “It’s just... I’ve been thinking about this all day.” Before Harry could ponder what Draco had been thinking about, he was yanked forward towards the wet boy and his mouth was covered with a wet kiss.

Harry had had wet kisses before. But nothing like this. Draco’s mouth was so warm, just like the rest of him as he knelt, pulling Harry up to kneel too and leaned his weight into him. He let go of the tub, realising he’d had a death grip on the ledge and raised them to tentatively lay them against Draco’s wet skin. The blond jumped, gasping.

“Your hands are cold.”

“Sorry.” Harry moved them, putting them back down.

Draco shook his head and put them back. ”It’s okay,” he said quickly and pulled Harry back in to finish what he’d interrupted.

The background noise of the television was coming in through the door. It was muffled, but Harry felt it was enough to drown out the sounds Draco was making. Those were just for him. He pulled Draco’s body closer and, even through the clothes he wore, he could feel the slight distend of his stomach pressing into him. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to reconfirm the fact that he was really going to be a father. It was daunting and exciting all at the same time and he was sure Draco felt the same way. The bump was hard, was that normal?

Draco moaned, tightening his hold.

He’d look closer later, this was more important. The kiss got deeper. With every swipe of Draco’s tongue in his mouth, Harry’s hand ventured lower until they crested on the swell of his naked arse. He snatched them away completely and swiftly apologised when Draco broke the kiss abruptly.

Draco frowned. “What? No, take off your clothes.” Oh. Okay. He could do that. Quickly, Harry moved away and started disrobing. The swish of the water made him pause and he turned to see Draco sitting back and staring at him. “Hop to it, Potter. I can’t wait all day, people are outside.” He gave him a sly grin accompanied by a cocked eyebrow. “They’ll want to know what’s keeping you.”

His clothes were gone in seconds. Harry almost found it funny that Draco still knew all the right buttons to push, even though they weren’t arguing anymore.

Hermione walked into the bedroom and looked around. Her eyes fell on the zombies lying down on the bed watching television. “Is Harry still in the bathroom?” she asked. When Pansy nodded, she clucked her tongue and went to knock on the door. Harry had told her he’d help her out with her research by starting on dinner and staying out of her way. If he wasn’t going to do it, then she’d have to.

“I wouldn’t do that.” It sounded like Blaise Zabini, but they’d all taken on monotones since sitting in front of the infernal piece of furniture, so she couldn’t be sure.

“Why not?” she asked the general populace. She propped her hands up on her hips and then let them fall, feeling like her mother. She cleared her throat.

Ron held up the remote. “We raised the volume.”

Hermione took a step away from the door. She then took another for good measure. “Erm.”

“Yep,” Ron said, his lips popping on the ‘p’ to stress it.

“Do you need any help downstairs?” Blaise asked.

Hermione tried hard to ignore the door to her left. “Er, yeah, but Harry can actually cook, so I-“

“I’ve heard,” Blaise said grinning cheekily. Hermione flushed, though she didn’t even know what the boy meant.

“I can cook,” Ron said. “You don’t live in my house without picking up a technique or two.” Hermione weighed her options.

“Do you know how to work the appliances?” Ron nodded. “How?”

“Harry showed me.”

Hermione was confused. “When?”

“When you were getting ready to leave this afternoon. It was so we wouldn’t starve. No one was hungry, so I didn’t bother. Next thing we know, Malfoy’s made cheesy pasta.”

“Which he also learned from Harry. Then again, he’s always been a fast learner.” Blaise grinned again and, once more, all Hermione could think of was dirty things.

The water was hot. Draco must have refilled it seconds before he’d come in because the only way the heat could be maintained otherwise was by magic. He’d been able to slip easily into the water. Draco had climbed on him immediately, obviously happy with being higher than him. _He probably misses being taller than me,_ he thought to himself and smiled into the kiss Draco, once more, assaulted him with.

Their wet skin slid hot and slickly together as Draco began rocking on him. He broke the kiss, unable to focus on the two at the same time. His hair was falling forward over his face and Harry reached up to move it behind his ears. Draco’s eyes opened and Harry was pinned in place. The dark room made them look like dark smouldering silver. It made him flush red with the heat. He wanted to fan himself, but the room was so warm he’d only succeed in moving hot air around. Draco leaned forward, his eyes looking almost angry, and Harry moved back until he was leaning back against the side of the tub. The country house really was bigger than it looked from the outside. It was wide enough that Harry only had to bend his legs slightly when he stretched them out. The wall was cool against his back, which brought some blessed relief from all the heat in his lap that was centred over his groin.

Draco reached up and grabbed the first bottle he could feel off the shelf. It was the same bath gel he’d found to put in the hot water. It smelled strong of berries and he handed it to Harry. “Here.”

Harry froze. “Er...” he trailed. “I don’t – er, I don’t know-”

Draco took it from him. “It’s okay. I didn’t either. Blaise showed me. Give me your hand.”

“Zabini showed you-” He was shut up by a hot lingering kiss that made his mind go blank again.

“Don’t be stupid. It was all theory. I’ve been practicing ever since.” He raised his eyebrows saucily. “A _lot_ of fun. Now. Give me your hand, Potter.”

“My name,” Harry said as he held it out, “is Harry.”

Draco corked the bottle and dropped it behind him over the edge to land on the mat. “Harry, I’ll call you whatever you want if you listen to what I say and pick up fast.”

Harry smiled, amused. “I’m a fast learner. One might even call me a _master_.” He grinned.

Draco cocked an eyebrow. “Don’t push it, Golden Boy.” He took Harry’s hand with the bath gel and pushed it down and around him. He hadn’t been lying, the practice was fun. Blaise certainly knew what he was talking about. Still, no one else had come close to where Harry was about to put his hand. “One at a time. I’ll tell you when I’m ready.”

Harry nodded, his bottom lip securely fastened between his teeth. He took a deep breath and moved in. Draco’s breath hitched as his finger breached his hole, slowly sliding in and out until he got to the second knuckle. Draco’s fingers were contracting and relaxing on his shoulders, his hips starting to rock. He figured that was a good sign. He rested his forehead against the blond’s and added another finger. He got a hum for that. “Should I stop-”

“ _Don’t you dare_ ,” he heard and the rocking in his lap intensified, Draco’s hard cock rubbing against his stomach. “Oh, Merlin, more.”

Harry tried with three fingers, scissoring them as he pushed them in and pulled them out again. A hand made it into his drying hair, wetting it again and suddenly gripped tight as Draco gasped. He winced. “Fuck!” Draco called out and Harry wondered if the volume of the TV was enough to drown that out too. Draco pulled his hand out, rising up a bit, and reached for the bath gel again. Harry forgot all about everyone else. Hell, he forgot his own name by the time Draco had coated him with the cool liquid and held onto his cock so he could slowly lower himself onto it.

His eyes rolled into the back of his head. The pressure and the heat were astounding. He held onto Draco’s hips, fighting the urge to simply slam the blond down and be done with the torture, but the slight wince he was seeing on Draco’s face made him pause. He fisted his hands and dropped them down into the hot water, plastering them to the sides of the tub. Steadily, he took in deep breaths to stave off the temptation. He’d never felt this before, with anyone.

Draco finally rested himself against Harry’s thighs and took in a deep breath. Hurdle one complete.

“Are you alright?”

Draco let out a breathy laugh at the concern. “So far. You?”

Harry nodded quickly. “Oh yeah. I’m good.” He swallowed thickly. “A little light headed, though.”

Draco narrowed his eyes playfully. “You’re not going to pass out on me, are you?” he asked leaning closer.

Harry let out some light laughter of his own. “God, I hope not. This is far too enjoyable to miss.” He joined Draco in the kiss he bestowed upon him, finally allowing his hands to detach from the walls of the tub and smooth up Draco’s thighs to his arse, pulling the blond closer. Draco gasped.

“Yes,” he hissed, moving against him.

The tugging pull of his cock was making him pant heavily, trying to hold back his orgasm. “Oh, my God.”

Draco laughed. “As names go, that’ll do.”

Narrowing his eyes, Harry secured his hold of Draco’s hips and gave him a punishing thrust to pay for that comment. Draco’s mouth opened, his eyes widening at the electric shock of pleasure that ricocheted up his spine.

 _Fuck, he_ is _a fast learner._

Draco bent backwards and held his hands over Harry’s to keep them where they were. He rocked in place, feeling the familiar stirring in the pit of his abdomen that usually began the chain reaction to an impending orgasm. “Deviate from this position and I will hurt you, Harry.”

Harry, having thought he’d done something wrong, sighed in relief when he heard Draco’s words. Though the tone left a lot to be desired, the general gist was that he was doing something right, so, to keep his part of the bargain, he listened and did as he was told. Draco had closed his eyes, focussing on the pleasure and Harry couldn’t blame him. There was _so much of it._ He kept up his pace, careful not to slosh too much water over the side of the tub. He was making quite a bit of noise now, unable to keep it in as his climax approached. His mouth hung open, his orgasm rocking him from his core to his toes.

Draco had had orgasms before, but not like this. Even the one he’d experienced last night paled in comparison. This one started and _echoed_ from the inside. It was amazing. Why hadn’t he tried this before? “Merlin’s balls,” he said as he came down from his high. Harry had his head back against the tiled wall, his eyes closed. Draco leaned forward studying him. His hands left the ones still plastered to his arse. He snickered, Harry was an arse man.

Harry opened his eyes to the laughter. “That bad?” he smiled.

Draco shook his head. “For a newbie, I’m almost about to claim beginner’s luck.” Harry laughed and shut his eyes again. “You’re a natural. First, last night, and now this. I have to say, I’m impressed.” He still hadn’t gained his breath back, but at least he could talk in full sentences without breaking.

They jumped at the knock on the door. They’d almost forgotten there was anyone else with them.

“Are you guys done? Dinner’s ready.”

“Shit,” Harry said and let his head fall back, once more, against the tile. “I was supposed to make dinner for Hermione.”

Draco kissed him. “She’ll forgive you. Make it tomorrow.”

“We’ll be right out,” he called, hearing Ron snicker behind the door, muttering ‘ _You already are, mate_ ,’ as he walked away. Harry rolled his eyes.

“It’s time to get out. You’re far too over-pruned for your own good.” He smiled at the blond, both of them hissing as Draco pulled way. Harry reached to the side and pulled the plug.

“Oh my, don’t you two smell like berries.” Blaise smirked as Draco and Harry walked in and sat down at the table. Neither of them winced, which made it hard for him to tell if they’d done it or not. It had certainly sounded like they had before everyone had vacated the bedroom. Harry blushed red and Draco simply cocked an eyebrow.

“The bubble bath was called ‘Berry Passion’.”

“I’ll bet it was,” Blaise said, digging into his food.

Harry grinned at his plate. Fried chicken, mashed potatoes and steamed vegetables. He knew showing Ron how to work the stove would pay off. He really should have stopped there instead of moving on to the TV. “Ron cooked, didn’t he?” He looked up at his friend, who was puffed up with pride. “I’ll recognise this dish anywhere.”

“Hmm,” Hermione said to him, smiling conspiratorially. “It seems he only pays attention to the lessons that get him fed.” Ron knew what to do once the stove was lit, only usually the stove was lit with a wand.

“Is that so?” Blaise said eyeing the Gryffindor sitting next to him. “I’ll have to remember that.” Harry and Draco shared a look. What did that mean?

They fell into an easy silence. The food tasted so good and the gravy he’d made, though not the rich taste of Molly’s, was just as good made from an OXO cube. “’Mione, do you still have the paper?” Hermione nodded and summoned it from the living room. Harry’s eyebrow rose. The food must taste _really_ good for her to use magic.

Draco looked up. “You got a _Prophet_?” he asked as the paper landed on the table. He opened it up, scanning the front page. Draco gasped.

Harry nodded. “I know.”

On the front, the headline _‘HOGWARTS UNDER SIEGE: DUMBELDORE DEAD’_ was emblazoned across the page. The picture showed the school still on fire, during the day, with billowing tufts of smoke emanating from the towers. It was hard to look at. Hogwarts was a home away from home for all of them. Inset, was a picture of Dumbledore that Harry hadn’t seen before. The man was posing and even smiled at the camera.

“It says his funeral is in two days. All who wish to attend are welcome to pay their respects. He’ll be buried in the place he loved the most, the place he kept safe until he died by the hands of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named-”

“Bullshit,” Harry said angrily. “Nott killed him.” Draco swallowed thickly. Nott had been given the task Draco had turned down. He looked at Harry. All because Harry Potter copied out the wrong notes. He shook his head. Harry caught his movement from the corner of his eye. “What?”

He sighed. “It-” The words stuck in his throat. He cleared it and tried again. “Nott took my place.” Harry’s face grew solemn. He looked around the table. Ron had paused with the fork to his mouth and Hermione was in a similar state. Blaise and Pansy didn’t look surprised at Draco’s words, more surprised that he’d said them. “I turned Him down and he gave my task to Nott instead.

“You turned him down?” was all Harry asked.

Draco nodded. “I don’t think I would have been able to do it anyway,” he said quietly. “And when he gave it to me, I didn’t really do a lot to move forward, you know? I procrastinated mostly.” Blaise and Pansy snorted. He narrowed his eyes at them. Putting down the paper, he resumed his dinner.

“What about all the times you left school?”

Draco frowned and cocked his head. “Left school?” he asked after he’d finished his mouthful.

Hermione explained. “Harry stalked you using his map. There were times when you weren’t on the map at all.”

Draco raised his eyebrows, adding to his surprised expression. “I’ve only left school twice for Hogsmeade weekends since September,” he said. “Even when I was meeting my father, I stayed on the grounds.”

“Then...” Harry shook his head in confusion. “Where were you?”

Draco shrugged. “Where I always was last term: my common room, _your_ common room, my bedrooms, any bathroom I happened to be near, classes, the Dining Hall and, sometimes, I’d take naps in the Room of Requirement.” He went back to eating.

Hermione jumped. “Unplottable! The Room of Requirement is unplottable. Of course! You wouldn’t see anyone that’s in a room the map can’t find.” She looked as if she couldn’t believe she’d never thought of it before.

“Oh my God,” Harry said. He wanted to bury his face in his hands.

“Yes?” Draco answered with a smile on his face.

Harry chuckled at their joke from earlier. “I spent months following you, trying to figure out what you were up to, and you weren’t up to anything?”

“If it gains us any points,” Ron said and Draco’s eyes went to him. “Me and Hermione told him you weren’t up to anything all along.”

Draco pointed his fork at the redhead. “You can have your points, but you lose half of them for your appalling grammar.” Ron looked put out. “It’s Hermione and I.” Ron rolled his eyes.

“That’s the first time you’ve said my name,” Hermione said drawing his attention. Draco simply smiled. Hermione was stunned.

“You should go to the funeral,” he said to Harry. “You want to. I can see it.”

“I have a bit of unfinished business to take care of.” He shared a solemn look with Ron and Hermione.

“Yes, well, I get that you have your secrets, but, since we’re all living here together for the foreseeable future, don’t you think you should utilise the labour you have?” Harry was lost in thought for a few moments. He shut his eyes. Dumbledore came to mind, telling him that he had to keep it to himself. What he was dealing with was very dangerous. He could still see the pale drawn look of Dumbledore’s face as he fed him the poison. He shook his head and opened his eyes to look at Draco. Under the shirt he was wearing, stolen from the closet, he was beginning to show. He would have to destroy pieces of Voldemort’s soul, likely right here in the house. The least he could do was let them know what they were getting themselves into, Slytherin or no.

“We’re searching for Horcruxes.”

Three forks dropped. Pansy pushed back from the table and Harry eyed her. If they wanted to leave, so be it, but he’d have to Obliviate her first. He could see Hermione subtly reaching for her wand. Out of all of them, Hermione, Ron and Pansy were the only three of age. Ron's wand-work left a bit to be desired so Hermione was their best bet. If she wanted, Pansy could leave right now with a spin and a crack of apparition. Blaise simply looked like he was about to throw up.

The first to recover was Draco. “Well,” he said with some difficulty. “I’m not really going to be able to do any fighting or, really, anything dangerous, but, I can do research and Granger has her portable library.” He shuddered. “The Horcruxes you have to destroy. Do you know how to do that?”

Harry toyed with the food in front of him. “Well, I have an idea.”

Draco stared at him. Harry knew what he was thinking. They needed more than an _idea_. “Oh, and what is that?”

“The first one I destroyed was in the Chamber of Secrets.”

Draco’s eyes widened. Peripherally, he could see Ron and Hermione smiling at his reaction. “You’ve been in the Chamber of Secrets?”

“You’ve already destroyed one?” Blaise added quietly.

Harry nodded, chewing. “Yeah, in second year. I stabbed it with a basilisk tooth.”

Unable to chastise him for chewing with his mouth open, Draco said instead. “Hang on. When you were twelve, you stabbed a Horcrux with a basilisk’s tooth, in the Chamber of Secrets?”

Harry smiled, a little embarrassed. “Yeah. What?”

It was a lot to take in. Draco needed some time to sort it all out in his head. “Oh. Nothing. I don’t even know why I’m so surprised, to tell you the truth.”

“Do you think there’ll be more of its teeth?” Pansy asked quietly, finally rejoining the conversation.

Harry, still eyeing Pansy warily, shrugged. “It’s worth a shot, right? I doubt anyone has been down there to clean up the carcass.” He decided not to acknowledge the pale expressions on the Slytherins’ faces.

“When?” Ron asked. Harry knew he could count on him.

“Go to Dumbledore’s funeral,” Draco suddenly said. He looked up at them as they turned to him. “The castle will be filled with people, and, if you’re disguised with a simple glamour charm, with a few disillusionment spells, you can get in and out without any problem.” He gestured to Hermione. “Granger, you can apparate right?”

She nodded at him. “Yeah. I took my test a few months before Ron did.”

Draco used a gesture to show he was resting his case. “The school has no wards. You can apparate right in and out, like many others will be doing and no one will be the wiser.”

Harry shared a glance with Hermione and Ron. “You think we can do it?”

They thought about it for a moment and Hermione nodded, determined. “Yeah. I really think we can.”

“Will we be staying here?” Draco asked.

Pansy raised her fork, as if she was in class and answering a question. “I’m actually comfortable here,” she said looking around the kitchen.

“We can’t!” Hermione said.

Harry shrugged. “Slughorn lived like this when he was hiding from the Death Eaters and he did it for years. It’s obviously a foolproof plan, since it took Dumbledore to find him.” He looked around. “If we’re careful and don’t draw attention to ourselves, we’ll be fine.”

Hermione huffed. “And what happens if the owners come back?”

Harry shrugged. “One of two things.”

“Harry,” she said, eyeing him sternly.

Harry put up his hands in surrender. “Nothing so drastic. We can _Obliviate_ them and send them elsewhere.”

“Or?” she said, angry.

“Or, we leave them unconscious.”

Hermione didn’t look impressed at all. “And you don’t think anyone will notice that the people that live here have come home but never leave their house?”

Draco shrugged. “No one has noticed we’re here so far.”

Hermione sighed exasperated. “People will notice they aren’t turning up places – like _work_ for example. Their family will notice they don’t pick up the phone. The _Police_ will be called.”

“Not if we cast a Misdirection Spell,” Blaise said polishing off his plate.

“A what?” Harry asked.

Blaise shrugged. “A misdirection spell. It’s in the muggle studies textbook ‘Magical Misdirection in Muggle Science’.”

Hermione took a second and then sat back, all the fight leaving her. “ _Repello muggletum_.”

“Of course,” Blaise said, like he didn’t understand her reaction. Draco rolled his eyes at his friend and started in on his tea. “We make this place unplottable, anyone who comes near will automatically be directed to go somewhere else or to do something else. It depends on the caster. If we cast one, we’ll be left alone.”

Harry nodded. “Alright, sounds like a plan.”

There was a short tufty man speaking. He was using a _sonorous_ so the congregation gathered could hear him. The sun was bright and the day was warm. It didn’t look like a funeral was taking place on the grounds of Hogwarts castle. The crowd was large. All the students who had managed to evacuate with the aurors had returned and were gathered among the wizards and witches from all over the world who came to pay their respects to one of the greatest and most powerful men who ever lived.

They watched from afar. Standing on the west side at the top of the hill, everyone else was gathered at the bottom where the cliffs met the lake. Around the edges, Harry could see a cluster of Merfolk gathered near the shore, watching over the proceedings. From what Harry remembered, they wouldn’t be able to understand anything said above water. Dumbledore was able to speak to Merfolk, he remembered from his fourth year. He shook his head. The Wizarding World had truly lost an amazing man. There was a grand white structure at the front. The tomb the _Prophet_ had written about. It was blinding, just like the article said. He couldn’t make out faces, but he knew the aurors were there. He could see a bright pink head of hair near the front and next to it was a bald dark-skinned head. Tonks and Shacklebolt. At the back, a little higher than the rest, Harry made out the near transparent outlines of the Hogwarts ghosts. Matching their height, a little ways away, stood Hagrid, Madam Maxime and Grawp.

A little to the side, he could see a sea of red-haired folk. He turned to Ron to see him swallow. His family was down there. Ron’s eyes were swimming, but he wasn’t making a sound.

Hesitantly, Harry began, “If you want to g-”

“Shut up, Harry.” The redhead didn’t even look at him, but he smiled a little to take the bite out of his words. A red graze stood out in stark contrast on Ron's cheek were he’d scraped it on the way down into the Chamber. Harry stared at it, but soon relaxed and turned back to the funeral. The cloth bag in his hands imprinted marks where he held it too tightly in his fist. He was at his mentor’s funeral and he was holding a bag of Basilisk teeth. He shook his head and pulled his thoughts away from there. It was sad, that they couldn’t go down there. If they did, no one would let them leave again. Ron’s mother was fit to tie him up and hold him in the dungeons if she had to.

“Harry Potter.”

Spinning around, Harry gasped at hearing his name, his heart in his throat. He faced Professor McGonagall and stared between her and the funeral at the bottom of the hill. “Professor, why-”

“I have paid my respects.” She eyed the group of six and turned away. “If you would follow me, please.” They all shared a look among themselves and began to follow. Before he rounded the west tower, Harry took one more look at the congregation as it began to disband. The white tomb stood out in stark contrast to the green grass, blue sky and dark clothing of everyone present.

Professor McGonagall led them through the main doors and into the entrance hall. They hadn’t seen it when they were under attack, having travelled from the seventh floor Room of Requirement to the corridor on their left that held some unused classrooms.

When they walked up the seventh flight of stairs and turned down the corridor to the left of the stairs, Harry realised they were heading to the Headmaster’s Office.

 _Former office._ It would be McGonagall’s now.

The gargoyle was already to the side, much like it had been the night of Dumbledore’s death. Every step felt steeper than the last. He almost expected the man’s body to still be on the ground when McGonagall opened the door.

Save for a few instruments missing from their shelves, possibly broken during the attack, the room looked untouched. Harry looked at the stretch of carpet where Dumbledore’s body had lain. It was empty.

“Harry, my boy.” Harry froze. Behind him, he heard Hermione gasp and sob at the same time. “And Ron and Hermione too. Mr Malfoy, you look radiant.” Harry turned slowly towards the wall of portraits. _Past Headmasters_. Of course he would be there. “Harry, you look sad.”

Harry wasn't sure he could speak, but he tried anyway. “Sir. You’re dead.”

“That I am,” the man nodded. “But, in a way, I am not gone.”

“Sir...” Harry couldn’t even finish his sentence without his throat closing up. He swallowed hard around the lump and tried again. “How am I... I don’t think I can do this. He’s going to become so powerful. You were the only person he ever really feared.” He had to have been, that’s why he was desperate enough to tell a student to kill him.

Dumbledore chuckled and Harry was amazed by how familiar the stance looked. “Ah, that’s where you’re wrong.” Dumbledore leaned back in his portrait chair. “He fears you, too, Harry, or else he wouldn’t be trying to kill you so badly.”

Harry was silent in thought about that for so long, McGonagall cleared her throat. “Would it be too much to ask you where you’re staying, Mr Potter?” Harry looked at her, wishing he could, but he had more than enough responsibilities.

His eyes drifted over to Draco. He couldn’t put them in danger. He wouldn’t. He was holding a bag of Basilisk teeth to prove it. “I’m sorry, but we can’t, Professor.” He straightened his stance. “We have to go.”

“Remember what I told you, Harry.” Turning back to the portrait, Harry took in the solemn stare he was getting from Dumbledore’s crystal blue eyes. “Even when your quest comes to an end, it is your heart that saves you.”

Harry stared at him, nodding once before having to tear his eyes away from a man he’d known and trusted for such a long time. Dumbledore waved to him, smiling as he walked away and Harry was hit by what was so familiar about it. The inset picture from the _Daily Prophet_ , it was his portrait. Did Dumbledore not have any pictures the paper could have used?

They huddled out of the office, Slytherins first. As they hit the bottom step and began the trek back to the grounds outside, Ron looked out the windows that spanned the corridor.

“I’m going to miss this place.”

They walked in silence on the grounds, bypassing tons of people as they continued to file out and away from the crypt. He kept his head down, unwilling to cause a commotion, nor a headline screaming, ‘Boy Who Lived mourns mentor’. He wasn’t in the mood for it. He stood at the front with Ron, Hermione, Blaise, Draco and Pansy. It was an unlikely group, but he was glad to have them around.

“We won’t be coming back.”

He felt fingers sliding into his and he didn’t need to turn to see Draco sidling up next to him. Draco pressed close and laid his head on his shoulder. Harry was glad for the closeness. He was glad for the company. Period. He looked down the line of them as they stood watching the bright white of the stone. Dumbledore, the chuckling man from the portrait they’d just seen, was lying in there and he wasn’t coming back. Hogwarts was never going to be the same again.

And neither were they.

“We know,” Pansy said and turned to him. Draco’s grip tightened in his. Next to him, Ron, who was standing really close to Blaise, smiled at him in encouragement. Harry nodded. They were six men strong, maybe they could do this.

Suddenly, Draco gasped and held his stomach.

Eyes widening, Harry spun to face him. “What, what is it?” All of them were crowding in close to Draco, who had bent over. Harry was looking down at his stomach, so he completely missed the look of wonder on Draco’s face. Draco grabbed his hand and placed it over his abdomen. Harry, for a moment more, couldn’t feel his heartbeat, since it had stopped in worry. But then he felt it. Movement. _Oh..._

 _Scratch that, we’re seven men strong_.

There was a lightheaded elation taking over his body and he didn’t feel like broadcasting it to the few remaining people who had remained to gawk at him. “Let’s go.” Pansy walked up to him and took one of his hands in hers, Draco’s in another. He looked over to see Hermione had done the same thing with Ron and Blaise. They all looked solemn, though the news of new life, alive and kicking, was staving off some of the dread. He closed his eyes, hearing Dumbledore’s voice in his head clear as the day he’d come to pick him up from Privet Drive.

_“And now, Harry, let us step out into the night and pursue that flighty temptress, adventure.”_

What was coming would be an adventure, he was sure of it. His grip tightened on Draco’s hand. He could feel a new pulse of life throbbing between them and it filled his heart with joy. He would keep this safe. This was his destiny, his challenge, and he would conquer it, if it meant that he would have to die in order to succeed. The bright white tomb was the last thing he saw and Draco’s hand holding his tightly was the last thing he felt before they Apparated with a crack.

~Fin~


End file.
